Traveling Mercies
by Mira Spiegel
Summary: His plan was to break her. Her plan was to survive. But after weeks of being on the run, Jackson and Lisa learn more about themselves and each other than they expected. JxL Complete!
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note: **I have always wanted to do a story like this one and I hope it turns out as wonderful on paper as it has in my mind and outline. I'm sorry to put my other Red Eye story on hiatus for now but I will return to it. I realize there are many stories like this one out there but hopefully my slightly different take on it should set it apart from the others. I don't own Lisa, Jackson or anyone else from Red Eye and I'm not making any money off of this. And please, don't forget to review!

**Traveling Mercies**

**Chapter One: The Escape**

He had watched doctors, orderlies and cops waltz in and out of the secure hospital room for the last three weeks. He could tell by their gait, mannerisms but most of all, their eye contact which ones were legit and which one's were on the Agency's payroll. So when the guard changed at midnight the beginning of the fourth week and the officer walked into the hospital room with a steady gait and direct eye contact, Jackson was ready for him.

Three surgeries and his voice was still nothing more than a raspy whisper so saying anything was pointless. Besides, actions always spoke louder than words. He had more than enough time to lay in bed and replay the events on that red eye flight in his mind. He picked out mistakes that were made, words that should have been said and not said but most of all he thought of Lisa. Literally, the one who got away. But he had learned from her. When one of the interns had been thrown into the room to check vitals the other morning, Jackson had deftly slipped the pen from the doctor's clipboard.

The assassin looked down at him, his face hidden in the shadows. Not that it really mattered if it was a person he had called friend at one time, the end result would be the same. The guy sent must have been young, he just stood there, not moving. Perhaps he knew what was coming and who was Jackson to make him wait? With as much force as he could manage, Jackson swung his arm in the direction of the assassin's leg. He felt grim satisfaction at feeling the pen sinking into the muscle and wondered if that was what Lisa felt when she stabbed him. Disconnecting his Ivs (the police deemed him too weak for the need of handcuffs), he jumped out of the bed, wrapping the thin tubing around the assassin's throat and pulling it tight. It didn't take long for the man to slump to the floor.

Jackson landed on top of the assassin, trying to catch his breath. Lisa's bullet had missed all vital organs but hurt like hell. Joe Reisert's bullet had collapsed a lung and having a damaged windpipe didn't help with his winded condition. He hoped the wheezing sound he was making didn't alert any of the other guards or doctor's notice. He laid half on the body and half on the floor for a few minutes until his breath came back and thankfully no one came to investigate the slight commotion.

He rolled the assassin over and started stripping the police uniform off of them. The last thing he took off was the shirt and was surprised to see a bra underneath the crisp white material. No wonder they chickened out when faced with him. Women and their emotions…when was the Agency going to learn to never send a woman to do a man's job. Afraid that the clothes might not fit, he was thankful he had lost some weight during his stay at Miami General. The shirt buttoned but was still slightly snug. The uniform fit the same as the shirt, tight but passable.

Dressing the dead body in the hospital gown, he put her in the hospital bed, turned her head away from the door and pulled the blankets over her. His hair had grown slightly in the last few weeks and it was just enough to wet down with the plastic cup of water by the bedside and slick back like the assassins. He found the gun with the silencer on it and just in case someone was listening, he fired one shot into the body.

Jackson tucked the gun into the waist band of his pants, pulling the jacket over it. Taking a deep breath, he walked towards the door and past the two guards that were keeping watch. Neither one stopped him as he passed them and headed straight for the elevators. He was too afraid to notice if the guards were Agency or not. He assumed they weren't but had been paid off considering the way they let him walk away. The elevator doors slid open, revealing it to be empty.

Perhaps luck was on his side tonight.

He couldn't believe it when the moist night arm hit him in the face. Miami in March…go figure. He would be so happy to leave this city behind but he had some unfinished business first. He pulled out the flash light that was on the belt of the uniform and started shining it into the cars in the dark parking lot. He looked like a security guard looking for teenagers making out in back seats but what he was focused on was an unlocked car. He finally found one, a decent looking Honda near the back of the lot. Opening the door, he checked under the seat and floor mat for the keys but couldn't find them. Reaching up, he pulled down the visor and the keys fell into his waiting hand.

_I never lie, Leese, _he thought with sadistic glee as he pulled out of the hospital parking lot. He told her he would steal her if they both came out of the situation alive and now he was going to make good on that promise. It was actually frightening just how familiar the streets of Miami had become to him. Eight weeks of surveillance will do that, which is why the Agency never allows that much time to pass for routine surveillance. Whoever wanted Keefe dead wanted it badly, a thing that Jackson hadn't fully comprehended during those weeks of mind numbingly boring stalking that took place. Lisa Reisert was not a very social person which made watching her extremely dull.

But he knew what obsession was now and felt the inhuman drive of force that always went behind it. He felt like he had a Florida thunderstorm raging in his chest, flashes of memories followed by the deep rumble of emotion. The intensity of feelings surprised him just as much as the range of emotions. Along with the hate for her resolute will, betrayal at the damn pen in his neck there was also the thrill of flirting with her at the Tex Mex bar, enjoyment at acting normal. The thunderstorm felt like it was turning into a hurricane and Jackson had to focus on the rage and anger. They were the only reliable emotions.

It didn't take long before he pulled onto a very familiar street, in front of a very familiar building. Lisa's condo was the one on the second floor, she thought it would deter criminals from breaking in. Well, it didn't stop him during the final part of those eight weeks and it wasn't going to stop him now. He sat in the car, staring up at the single light on in the condo and fingered the bandage on his throat. He thought about killing her tonight, nice and quick and then get out of Miami. But he wanted her to suffer, he wanted to see her iron will bend and snap while he watched the fight go out those green eyes. He wanted her to know he won. After weeks in a hospital, all the sudden excitement and activity was leaving him drained. He would have to incapacitate her quickly and take her with him.

Rifling through the jacket pockets of the uniform, he found a badge. Perfect. He got out of the car and walked up the stairs to her front door, knocking sharply on her door. He kept his head down, looking off to the side and held the badge up to the peep hole when he heard movement on the other side of the door. He tried to calm his rapidly beating heart and tensed his muscles to strike. The door unlocked, the deadbolt slid back and it cracked open just enough for her look out over the chain that was her last defense.

Before she said anything, he kicked the door in with all his strength. He was rewarded with the door flying open and the sound of Lisa's body hitting the foyer floor. Quickly, he stepped through the door and shut it. Not wanting to under estimate her again, he pulled the handcuffs off his belt and secured her hands behind her back. There was a coat rack by the door with a trench coat hanging on one of the hooks. He pulled off the belt and tied it around her ankles before collapsing on the bench that was next to the coat rack.

His breathing was erratic, a pounding headache was making itself known and he was completely exhausted. Of course, that was what the Agency was depending on, him being too weak to make a successful escape. He would just have to prove them wrong…as soon as he caught his breath. While he did that, he studied Lisa. She was still dressed in her work clothes which meant she must have just gotten off work. That worked in his favor as no one would be looking for her for a few hours. That would be more than enough time to get out of the state, let alone Miami.

Once his breathing returned to normal, he headed into the kitchen. He didn't want to take the time to make a pot of coffee but he had to have some stimulate to keep him alert enough to drive and watch his back when Lisa came to. Opening the refrigerator he was pleased to find almost a full case of Red Bull. That should keep him awake for the fourteen hour drive ahead of him. He started pulling food out of the cabinets and throwing it into a bag. He still hadn't decided if he would kill Lisa before he got to New Orleans or when he got there. Everglades, bayous, they all made good body dump sites.

The next thing he needed was clothes. He knew from a previous rummage through her things that she kept a box of men's clothes in the small attic space on the second floor of the condo. It was really just a closet off of the living room but it was still for storage. When he first found the box it threw him and pushed him into a deeper background search. Lisa had a brother that had been killed in a car accident his sophomore year in college. The knowledge explained the clothes, male themed bedroom in her father's house and the super over protectiveness of said father.

Jackson found a duffel bag and threw a couple shirts and pants into the bag. Shoes were more problematic. The ones he pulled off the dead assassin were too small and Lisa's brother's were too big. Well, he'd rather have too big than too small. He traded the uncomfortable uniform for a pair of well washed jeans, t-shirt and v-neck pullover. After much digging through the box, he was rewarded with a pair of worn Birkenstock sandals. Stowing the uniform in the bag and tucking the gun into the waistband of his jeans, Jackson headed back down to the first floor.

Lisa was still on the floor, completely unmoving. He remembered it took her thirty minutes to recover from the head butt on the plane. Working with that time line, he still had fifteen minutes of blessed peace from the slip of a woman on the floor. Not sure of how long he would have her on his hands, he headed into her bedroom and randomly grabbed clothes and added them to the bag. Slinging it over his shoulder, he went back to the kitchen and picked up the bag with all the food. He looked at Lisa's prone form and realized if anyone saw her tied up in the backseat of his car the cops would be on him in no time. Grabbing a throw from the living room, he made the first trip down to the car that brought him there.

Making his way back up the stairs, he had to rest again. Exhaustion was pulling on him incessantly now. He wasn't even sure he had the strength to carry her down the stairs now. But he hadn't escaped an assassin's clutches, over powered his mark and had a car with more supplies than he normally dealt with to give up. Taking a deep breath, he bent over Lisa, expecting any type of attack possible but she was still out cold. When he picked her up, it was like his chest exploded in pain and he could hear himself wheezing again.

Silently, he urged himself to carry this through. He tried to bring up the old feelings of resentment and revenge but the pain was too much. It seemed to take forever to get her down the stairs but once he saw her lying on her side, covered with the throw, a sense of pride came over him. She looked like a weary travelling sleeping in the back seat. It had been so long since he had felt that emotion it took him a few minutes to realize that was what pride felt like. Sliding behind the wheel and making sure the child proof locks were in place on the back doors, he pulled out of Lisa's parking lot for the last time.

Finally.

Two hours into the drive, Miami was definitely behind him. He had finished two of the Red Bulls and was feeling unnaturally animated now. He had heard Lisa moving around in the back seat but she hadn't said anything yet. She was most likely plotting how to kill him once and for all. Well, he'd let her plot all she wanted. He had searched and removed anything from the backseat that could be a possible weapon and the way she was tied up made mobility nonexistent. For now, he was safe from her.

There was a phone booth at the street corner in some deep south poverty stricken town that he pulled over and parked next to. The sun was starting rise on the horizon, orange and hot. It was still early morning at the beginning of March but the humidity was still hanging in the air making it seem warmer than what it was. Thankfully the call he was going to make wouldn't take long. He didn't even acknowledge Lisa as he got out of the car, pocketed the keys and walked over to the phone booth. Using quarters he found in the console of the car, he dialed a very familiar number. Three rings and an equally familiar voice came over the line.

"This better be good."

Jackson had to smile. "Remy, it's Jackson." The smile quickly faded at the sound of

his voice. It was gravelly, raspy and all he could manage was a whisper.

"Who?"

"Jackson," he tried again, louder though his vocal cords rebelled. "Rippner."

There was a pause. "Jackson! How the hell are ya? They letting ya make calls from the hospital and ya call me. I'm touched."

"Not in the hospital, Remy."

"Ah, I got ya." The Cajun chuckled. "Need a place, huh?"

"Just for a couple nights."

"You picked a good time, bud. Mardi Gras is starting tomorrow, you'll be coming in with the crowd. I'll save a room for ya." There was a slight pause. "Ya bringin' any, uh, guest with ya?"

"Yeah, I am."

"I figured. I'll take care of it. See ya later today?"

"Yeah. Thanks."

"Don't mention it."

Jackson hung up the phone and rubbed his sore throat. He glanced at the car and saw Lisa was sitting up in the back seat now, looking around. The pain this time brought back those feelings that comforted him in that hospital. Hate, disgust at both himself and her, anger and of course, revenge. Her head turned and he could see her eyes focusing on him. He kept his hand at his throat for a few heartbeats as they stared at each other. A grim smile made it's way on his face and he started back to the car.

_Let the games begin, Leese._


	2. No Man's Land

**Author's Note: **A big, huge thanks to my reviewers! You guys are awesome! I hope I keep up with your expectations!

**Traveling Mercies**

**Chapter Two: No Man's Land**

"Why are you wearing my brother's clothes?"

Jackson looked at Lisa, handcuffed and indignant, using the rearview mirror. "I would have thought there were more pressing questions on your mind."

"You have no right…"

Jackson slammed the key into the ignition and the engine roared to life. His old friends, anger and resentment had made a come back. "No right to what, Leese? Live, breathe, wear your dead brother's clothes?"

"All of the above," she spat back.

"Yeah, well, suck it up." He cranked up the air conditioning. Why was it so hot in here? Lisa was quiet for a few minutes and he checked in the rear view mirror again. She was staring out the back window, watching the lack of landscape flying by them. She wasn't fighting or arguing and he wasn't quite sure what game she was playing. "What, no more questions?"

An odd smile appeared on her face. "What good have they done me so far?"

Jackson gripped the steering wheel until his knuckles turned white. It was the same thing she had said to him minutes before she slammed that pen into his windpipe.

"No snappy comebacks?"

Grinding his teeth together to keep from answering her, he kept his eyes on the road. He couldn't take looking at that insolate face in the mirror anymore. What was it about her that got him so riled up and out of control? Calm down, breathe. Now he was cold. He switched from the air conditioning to the heat.

"I wish you would decide if you were cold or hot," Lisa complained. "You're going to give me pneumonia."

"That's the least of your worries." His eyes flicked back up to the mirror and finally, there was some fear in those green eyes. "See all this land we're going through, Leese? Pretty soon we'll be in Louisiana and you know what's in Louisiana? Bayous. I've dumped my fair share of bodies there. If you do it right, it's hard to tell the difference between a murder victim and some poor Miami girl that wandered into the swamp and became dinner for a gator."

And there it was. Jackson watched as her eyes roved all over the car looking for a way out, just as she had done when he dropped her father's wallet down in front of her. Go ahead, Leese, look all you want. The plane had been neutral territory. Her father's house had been her territory. Now, they were playing on his home turf.

"Did you do anything to my Dad?"

"No," he shook his head. "But I can't say the same for the Agency."

"Is that what this is? You kill me you get your job back, _Jack_?"

He hadn't thought about it that way. All he wanted to do was make her suffer. "Possibly. Certainly couldn't hurt my possibilities."

"You're sick."

"I've been called worse." Like pathetic. That still set his teeth on edge. He debated about telling her the last person who called him pathetic to his face was six under the ground in an unmarked grave. His throat was killing him from all the talking and he was sweating again. He yanked the pull over off and tossed it onto the driver's seat.

"Are you going to talk like that permanently?"

Jackson tried to fix her with a cold glare but she stared back at him unperturbed in the mirror. "You better hope I don't."

"Why should I care? You're going to kill me anyway, right?"

He didn't answer her because he couldn't, not with her staring at him like that with a mixture of defiance and hope. Killing had never exactly come easy to him, despite the persona he portrayed. He certainly had the drive and anger to kill this woman but his mouth refused to form the words. This was getting to be a dangerous game and he was seriously regretting not killing her at home. If he was smart, he would pull the car over, put a bullet in her head and leave her on the side of the road but he just couldn't. And he loathed himself for that lack of control over his body. Perhaps that was where the spite came from, she was his weakness and he hated her solely on that level. Silence reigned in the car for the next hour. The only sounds were Lisa fidgeting in the back seat and Jackson changing from heat to air conditioning every twenty minutes.

"Jackson?"

He braced himself for anything. "What?"

"I have to…go."

"Go where?" When she didn't respond, he looked up at the mirror again and saw a pleading look in her face. Oh. He hadn't thought about that but now that he did, all it could mean was trouble. He remembered the last time he let her out of his sight to go to the bathroom. Just thinking about being back in that plane lavatory caused all kinds of raging emotions to come to the surface. They both saw each other's cracks then, a kind of intimacy that he shared with no one.

"Jackson-"

"I heard you," he snapped. Well, considering the circumstances he couldn't have asked for a better place to be driving through. They were starting into bayou country which meant, there was no where to run. Without saying anything, he pulled the car over to the side of the road and cut the engine.

"What are you doing?"

He didn't hide his smile as he got out of the car, shoved the keys into his pocket and pulled out the gun before opening the back door of the car. Lisa was regarding him with distrust, curiosity and yes, a hint of fear. Good. "You kick me, I shoot you. Understood?"

Her eyes traveled from him to the gun and then back to him. "I thought you said you were a lousy shot."

"Just because I don't shoot you where I want doesn't mean I won't hit you."

She swallowed nervously and grimaced. "Fine."

Still keeping an eye on her for any deceit, he leaned down and undid the knot in the coat belt that secured her ankles. He grabbed her arm and yanked her out of the car. He wouldn't have tried this on a major highway which was why he chose to come to New Orleans by back swamp roads. No respectable traveler would be on this road which meant if anyone saw him dragging Lisa off into the swamp, gun in hand, they would turn a blind eye and claim they saw nothing if asked.

"Listen to me," he said, pulling out the handcuff keys, "there's no place to run to out here." He unlocked one of the cuffs and when she moved her arms forward, he snapped it shut again, handcuffing her hands in front of her. "If you're not back in five minutes, I'll assume your gator food."

She looked at him as if he had gone mad. Maybe he had, who knew. He certainly felt half mad, keeping her alive this long, jittery on caffeine and lack of sleep. She took a tentative step back from him and then stepped off the road. She stopped there and stared at him. This was getting boring. He walked around to the other side of the car and opened the passenger side door. Grabbing another Red Bull and popping it open, he turned his back to her and leaned on the car. "Tick tock, Leese." With some sense of accomplishment, he heard the high weeds rustle. He glanced over his shoulder and saw she had disappeared from sight.

He finished off the drink, tossed the can onto the floor of the car and decided it was probably wise for him to do same as Lisa. He had a sneaking suspicion the caffeine was the only thing keeping him conscious at the moment and they still had good two or three hours of driving ahead of them. He was still experiencing hot and cold flashes which meant he was fighting a fever and with a fever comes infection. It wasn't something he wanted to think about until they reached New Orleans.

As he walked back to the car after his bathroom break, he checked his watch and saw that five and a half minutes had passed and Lisa was not at the car. He had been bluffing about the alligators…they usually didn't inhabit the marshy land that was out here. Maybe he had been wrong and the sudden fear that something had happened to her overtook him. But he was going to kill her anyway, so what if a wild animal got her first? Right? The logic made sense but he still couldn't help trying to look over the car into the bushes on the other side.

"Leese?"

A flash of movement caught his peripheral vision and he jumped out of the way as a thick branch landed heavily on the roof of the car. It was swung at him again and he dodged it once more but he could feel the fever robbing his legs of strength, making them rubbery. He pulled the gun from the waistband of the jeans and fired a shot in the air. The branch stopped it's wild movement and he could see Lisa's wary green eyes over the bark. He thought about what to say to her when his eyes caught sight of the roof of the car. There was a huge dent over the driver's side door. Sweet mother in heaven…if that had connected, she just might have killed him. And here he was wasting what energy he had worry over her well being.

Years of training and weeks of fury propelled him at her, snatching the branch out of her hand and cracking her on the head with it. She hit the pavement with much of the same sound she had hit the floor of her condo. With shaking hands, he threw the branch into the swamp and picked Lisa up off the road, dumping her unceremoniously in the back seat. He re-cuffed her hands behind her and bound her ankles again. He slammed the back door shut and leaned against the car exhausted. This was getting too much for him. He was trembling from head to foot and for once he didn't know what was the cause. It could be the fever, his wounds, exhaustion but he knew that wasn't true. The cause was laying in the backseat of the car.

Lisa Reisert wasn't going to be his undoing, she already was.

He had to get control, of himself and the situation. How many times had he told himself that on the ill fated flight? He had no room for error the second time around. He was going to kill her. He would deliver her to the Agency, beaten, broken and with a red satin bow tied around her corpse. But first, he would have his fun. With this new resolve, he slid behind the wheel, took the steering wheel with still trembling hands and continued the drive to New Orleans.

His peace and quiet didn't last very long. Lisa was awake in less than thirty minutes and was scowling at him from the backseat. There was a bruise blossoming on her cheekbone from where the branch connected. Jackson felt a muscle twitch in his cheek at the sight of the bruise. He hated seeing bruises on women but he had to remind himself that Lisa was not a normal woman. The roof of the car spoke to that defense.

"Have a nice nap?"

Her scowl turned into a glare. "You're a bastard."

He laughed slightly. "Once again, I've been called worse." She seemed to sink back against the back seat in tired defeat. A sign welcoming them to Louisiana surprised him. He hadn't realized they were that close to their destination. He must have been speeding more than he thought. If they just passed into Louisiana, that meant they just blew through Pearlington, Mississippi. He breathed a sigh of relief and laid his head back on seat. He would see Remy in a little over an hour and finally be able to rest. Remy would take of Lisa for him and watch his back so he could finally recoup somewhat from everything.

"We're going to New Orleans."

Jackson glanced up at the mirror. He couldn't tell if it was a question or statement from Lisa so he didn't say anything.

"It'll be Mardi Gras tomorrow, won't it?"

"Planning on taking your shirt off for some cheap, plastic beads?"

Her eyebrow lifted. "Oh, so that's why we're going to New Orleans. So you can ogle half naked, drunk women?"

"I've been lying in a hospital bed for three weeks, Leese. I'm entitled to some fun."

She made a disgusted noise and then said no more the entire ride into the city. The traffic was so bad, Jackson decided to park on a back street, they wouldn't be using the car again, and walk to Remy's hotel on Bourbon Street. Rest was so close he could almost taste it. He turned the car off and with a grimace, put the fleece pull over back on. He left the food on the floor of the car but grabbed the duffle bag of clothes. When he opened the back door of the car, Lisa was staring glossy eyed at him.

"Leese?"

Her eyes seemed to clear as they flicked up to his face. "You're going to give me brain damage, you know that?"

"You're lucky it should be so quick. Same rules as before." Without waiting for her consent, he pulled the belt off her ankles and pulled her out of the car. With one smooth movement, he uncuffed one hand again, only to latch it over his own wrist. He tugged the pull over sleeve down over the metal and then did the same thing to long sleeved shirt Lisa was wearing before grabbing her hand. Most of the people on the street would be celebrating early, too drunk or high to notice the metal chain connecting them together but just in case someone got suspicious, they would just see a young couple, holding hands and enjoying the Big Easy. He half pulled her behind him as they started down the street towards Bourbon Street. It should only be about fifteen minute walk to the hotel.

"You're really hot."

"Thank you."

Lisa made that disgusted noise again. "That's not what I meant."

"Hm," was all he said in response. He didn't need her knowing that he was barely putting one foot in front of the other. Not that she could do much being handcuffed to him but she had proved to ingenious in other ways. He wouldn't put it past her to just lop off his hand and make a run for it. Two blocks and they turned onto Bourbon and Jackson could see Remy's hotel, wrought iron balconies with flowers and vines draped down the building. Revealers were already on most of the balconies, drinking and laughing. His knees almost gave out with relief at seeing one of the few places he had ever called home.

The lobby of the historic hotel was smaller than the Lux Atlantic but the old city charm made it so much more appealing to Jackson. Light marble floors, old Southern pillars and a bronze fountain in the center of lobby was the sweetest thing he had seen in a very long time. No, correct that…seeing Remy LeFevere walking across the lobby with a broad grin and open arms was the most wonderful thing he had seen in a while.

"Jackson!" The tall Cajun gave him a rib-crushing embrace and then turned politely to Lisa. "And ya must be the infamous Lisa. A pleasure."

Lisa kept her free hand firmly behind her back and refused to look at Remy. Jackson smirked. "It's been a long ride in the car."

"Looks like," Remy started walking through the lobby to the elevators. He slid a plastic card and the elevator in front of him opened. Jackson wearily stepped inside, Lisa oddly complacent beside him. Everything seemed odd at the moment though. He was so hot for one. All he could think about was a cold shower at the moment. Once the elevator closed, Remy cleared his throat.

"Agency is looking for ya already, Jackson."

"Figured as much. I won't stay for long."

"I wouldn't worry about it. I got a promotion. The hotel is neutral ground now. The Agency doesn't know though I figure they'll figure it out soon enough. They can't touch ya on my turf, bud."

Jackson barely registered what Remy was saying. He was feeling nauseous at the moment and it was everything he could do to keep from passing out. His throat was hurting again, his chest was on fire and he was dimly aware of his wheezing breath. And the heat was getting to be unbearable. He just wanted all of it to go away…the running for his life, the pain, the hurt, the anger, Lisa, Remy, everyone. And suddenly, he was granted his wish with blessed, cool darkness.


	3. Mardi Gras

**Traveling Mercies**

**Chapter Three: Mardi Gras**

Along with fear for her life, Lisa felt an enormous amount of fury at Jackson. Not only had he taken her from her home, friends and life that she was carefully rebuilding once again, he handcuffed and tied her up for half a day of driving but of all places to take her to: a hotel. She wasn't sure if he had planned it that way on purpose or if this was the only place he could go to after his spectacular failure with Keefe. Either way, it didn't matter. She was furious with him for so many reasons it was getting hard to keep track of them all. Instead, she focused on the lobby of the hotel, the only thing that was remotely familiar to her. There were many people around but most were young, in large groups and already had their alcoholic beverage of choice in hand. There was no one interested in helping her there.

Her eyes were drawn to a young couple sitting at a very old looking bar across the room. He looked like he was drinking a scotch while she sipped at a sea breeze, of all things. She wondered briefly if things would have turned out differently if she had gotten a sea breeze at the Tex Mex instead of that dreadful bay breeze. Out of everything that happened between them on that flight, Jackson seemed to feel incensed at her lying about that one small detail. It was a reaction she never quite understood. Why did he care so much that she had lied about something as insignificant as a drink?

"Jackson!"

Lisa jumped slightly at the boisterous announcement of their arrival. A very tall and thin man made his way over to them. Lisa tried to look disinterested in him but she was struck with how similar he looked to Jackson: dark hair, prominent cheekbones and bright blue eyes. His hair was much longer than Jackson's and pulled back in a low ponytail. She was hoping Jackson would release his painful grip on her hand when the two men greeted but he didn't.

"And ya must be the infamous Lisa. A pleasure." He reached towards but she kept her free hand behind her back and looked back at the couple flirting over the scotch and sea breeze, an odd twitch in her chest. Was that girl destined to be destroyed by the man she was with?

"It's been a long ride in the car," Jackson was saying. He was smiling but Lisa saw the edge to it, it was a warning to behave.

"Looks like," Remy mumbled.

Lisa glanced up at Jackson as they followed behind the Cajun. His hand was burning up, scorching her skin. She had thought he was just pale from still recovering from his wounds but when he had handcuffed them together, she could feel the heat pouring off of him. She didn't want to but she couldn't shake the nagging worry that he was very sick. She knew it wasn't a proper feeling, concern for her abductor, so she chalked it up to being too involved in her job and always wanting to take care of people's needs.

They entered the elevator and when the doors slid shut, she expected him to let go of her hand but he didn't. He must be feeling really horrible not to notice he was still holding onto her. Remy and Jackson were talking about the "Agency" and how the hotel was neutral ground. The only reason they would need neutral ground was if his employers were hunting him down. If they were hunting him down, she wondered if they were looking for her too. What if they were? If Jackson had invested so much time and effort into her, especially now that he had "stolen her" as he said he would, it wouldn't be beyond belief that they would come after her as well.

The thought overtook her mind and stole the breath out of her lungs. If they were tracking them, what about her Dad? The Keefe's? And if Jackson was running with her, then he may be her only salvation. Wasn't there a saying about this…the enemy of my enemy is a my friend? Could Jackson ever be a friend to her? She was trying to get control on her breathing when she lost her footing and landed on Jackson. It took her a couple seconds to realize he passed out and drug her down with him. Remy was on the floor, digging through Jackson's pockets and pulling out the keys.

"Listen to me, Petite," he said in the same dangerous tone that she had heard Jackson use. "I unlock the cuffs, ya got no where to run. Not here in my hotel."

She figured as much and nodded in defeat as she felt the metal leave her wrist. If what he said was true about the hotel being neutral ground then she wouldn't want to leave it anytime soon. She wasn't sure what to do with her new found freedom at the moment though. She was oddly reluctantly to let go of Jackson, her possible killer or potential savior. He had made veiled threats of killing her this time but he had fourteen hours and endless swamp land to do it in and yet here she was, still breathing and leaning on his fevered body.

"Lisa!"

She snapped back to the situation in the elevator and Remy.

"Ya need to get up so I can pick him up."

Lisa jumped to her feet and picked up the duffel bag as Remy threw Jackson over his shoulder. She was so used to seeing Jackson vibrant, in motion and in control of…everything. Seeing him lifeless was very disturbing, more so than it should have been. He scared her tremendously from the first time his true colors had been revealed but seeing him weak and defenseless frightened her even more. "He's going to need a doctor."

Remy gave her a slightly surprised look. "I got one." Then he grinned and winked at her. "Concerned for him, huh?"

Lisa felt her face color. "It's more of a preservation thing, actually." She really didn't care what Remy thought of her comment. She said it more to try to convince herself that it was just her safety she was concerned about and not Jackson as a person.

The doors slid open and instead of a hallway, a very ornate living room greeted her. The modern décor in the Lux was nonexistent here. The room was decked in maroons, gold and deep greens with antique furniture and tiffany lamps. Remy had left the room and a few minutes later, she heard a door shut before Remy made a reappearance without Jackson.

"Can I get ya something to eat? Drink, maybe?"

Lisa shook her head but her stomach growled anyway. Remy folded his lanky form onto one of the couches and picked up the phone that was sitting on an dark wooden end table. He spoke what sounded like French to the person on the other end before returning the phone to it's cradle.

"Ya can sit down, Petite. I know the furniture looks old but it'll hold ya."

Lisa dropped the duffel bag by an arm chair and practically fell into the chair. She hadn't realized just how tired she was until now. She didn't exactly sleep in the backseat of that car. Trust was definitely not shared between her and Jackson. However, the man sitting across the room from her may have a razor blade smile and oily charm but he had strangely kept his distance from her and treated her with an almost a familiar air.

"Do I know you?" she asked.

His grin suddenly became sharper. "No, but I know you."

She felt like she was back on the plane, trying to talk to Jackson who was morphing from the sweet, charming guy she had met in the airport into professional "manager," whatever that was. She would have to keep guessing wrong answers before a questionable answer was given. Perhaps being direct with Remy would prove better results. "What do you mean?"

He regarded her with shrewd eyes before answering her. "Jackson called me about three weeks into his surveillance of ya. He was bored outta his mind and wanted a break. So, I came down to Miami for a few days to take over."

Great. Not only did she have Jackson watching her for eight weeks but this guy too. "How much of a 'break' did Jackson get?"

Remy laughed shortly. "He didn't. He still kept up his surveillance full time, just with me in the car. I told him I could handle a hotel manager with no social life but he wouldn't let me watch ya by myself. I couldn't understand for my life why he was so obsessed with ya until my third day there."

"And that was?"

Remy just stared at her with that secretive smile of his until the elevator doors opened and a food cart was pushed into the room. The scent of seafood and spices filled the room and Lisa's stomach gave another loud grumble which only brought a wider smile to Remy's face.

"People come from all over for Dolly's Gumbo." Remy took a bowl from the car and handed it to her. "Eat up."

* * *

Lisa was starting to feel almost comfortable in her very gilded cage. It had been two days since she arrived in New Orleans and she hadn't seen Jackson since Remy carried him off the elevator. She was caught between wanting to see him, wanting to know that he was regaining his health but at the same time not really caring. If he died, she would be released, or she liked to think so, and she could finally put all of this behind her.

It appeared that Remy lived in the elaborate penthouse of the hotel as he was constantly around her. True, he spent most of his time on the phone or reading the newspaper but he was there, ever vigilant. He didn't try to play mind games with her or pressure her into doing anything. Most of their time spent together was filled with reading. She was even starting to enjoy doing the crossword puzzle in the daily paper that arrived with their breakfast tray. There was a comfort in the silence, a peace that she hadn't felt for a very long time. Just like Jackson, it made her feel safe and terribly vulnerable at the same time.

The morning of the third day, Remy greeted Lisa as she stepped out of her bedroom that was off of the kitchen. At first she thought he was there to deliver the news that Jackson was gone, either dead or up and left, but a trademark grin found it's way on his face, chasing that idea away. She wouldn't be so lucky anyway. Jackson was going to haunt her until the day she died.

"I have chairs set up on the balcony for ya, Petite."

Lisa was afraid of heights so the news was clearly not as pleasant as he was making it sound.

"What for?"

"What for!?" He laughed loudly and tossed her a handful of plastic purple, green and yellow beaded necklaces. "It's Fat Tuesday!"

Oh, that's right. The end of Mardi Gras. Remy was full of energy and grins as he made his way out onto the balcony. Cautiously, she followed him out of the French doors and into the fresh air outside. The height was dizzying but that wasn't what ultimately drew her attention. There were three chairs sitting on the balcony, one of them already taken by a half slumped Jackson. Lisa questioned her sanity at the feeling of hopefulness that sped up her heart rate at seeing him again. What did she care? Wasn't she just thinking that she'd be better off with him dead?

"It's not polite to stare, Leese."

Lisa's hopefulness evaporated quickly. She didn't even have to see his face to know he was sporting a smirk, his tone implied it. Much to her further dismay, Remy took the seat on the other side of the balcony, leaving only the middle one, next to Jackson open. Well, she was used to his games now and if he wanted to play, so could she.

"So, Remy," she said, stepping up to the black iron railing and pointedly ignoring Jackson, "What do you do with the beads?"

"Ya throw 'em."

"I thought the people on the floats threw the beads," Jackson asked. Lisa noted his voice sounded slightly stronger than when she last heard it but it still sounded tired and lazy.

Remy pointed to a woman on a balcony across from him who was dressed in a Catwoman bodysuit. She pointed back, smiling and Remy threw a string of beads at her which she deftly caught. "Why should they have all the fun?"

Lisa absently tossed a string of the plastic beads at no one in particular but plastered a smile on her face, acting like she was having a great time. She was curious to see how Jackson looked, if his color had returned or if he was still washed out but she didn't want to give him the satisfaction of her concern. The reason for her worry still eluded and troubled her. She had spent the last few days worrying over her father and the Keefe's but somehow Jackson always made his way into her thoughts as well.

"So," Jackson was saying, "has Lisa here tried to kill you, Remy?"

"Nope," the Cajun responded, flirting with another woman who dressed up as a French maid on the balcony below them.

"She hasn't tried to stab you with a pen, shoot you or bash your skull in with a branch?"

Remy chuckled and tossed another string of beads to the group below the Catwoman. "Nope, nope and nope. She's actually been quite pleasant company, Jackson. Don't see why ya had so much trouble with her."

She flashed Remy a grin for good measure, anything to infuriate Jackson as much as he did her.

"Yeah," Jackson said lazily, "It wasn't like I was trying to hurt her on that plane."

Lisa swung around, shaking with shocked rage and stared at him with wide eyes. "You did nothing but hurt me."

Some of his color had come back and his blue eyes had lost the fevered look and were back to their cold, glacial chilliness. His mouth twisted into a grin that didn't quite reach his eyes. "I don't know if I would stand so close to that railing if I were you. People have been known to die terrible deaths due to the drug and alcohol influence of Mardi Gras."

Lisa jumped back from railing as if it was hot. She wasn't sure if he was teasing or if it was an actual threat.

Remy laughed loudly. "Oh, Jackson, quite scaring her like that! You ever think that might be the reason for her trying to cause ya harm?"

"It's what he does best, Remy." Lisa stared boldly into those emotionless blue eyes. "He likes scaring people, intimidating them into doing what he wants."

"When have I ever intimidated you into doing anything? You are forgetting that the Keefe's are still alive, right?" Jackson stood up slowly from the chair. The movement caused his shirt to move and the sunlight to hit the angry red circle scar at the base of his neck. Lisa swallowed the bile that had risen up in her throat. She had done that to him, with a pen of all things.

"Admiring your handiwork?" he asked lowly.

Lisa shook her head, that cold trickle of fear creeping down her spine again. "No."

"When are you going to stop lying, Leese?"

He turned away from her and walked back into the penthouse. She released the breath she had been holding when something flashed in the sunlight. It had been thrown in her direction and she instinctively caught it in her hand. It was a string of purple Mardi Gras beads. Remy let out a low whistle beside her and Lisa turned around, throwing the beads as far away from her as possible.


	4. The First Piece of the Puzzle

**Author's Note: **An absolutely huge thank you to all my reviewers! You guys rock and are my inspiration! Thank you!

**Traveling Mercies**

**Chapter Four: The First Piece of the Puzzle**

It didn't take long for the balcony to become Lisa's favorite place in the penthouse after the noise and excitement of Mardi Gras had passed. She spent hours out there reading and finishing the crossword puzzles that had become her one craving since they arrived. One week after Fat Tuesday and the city below her, though still busy, appeared to be resting from it's wild exuberance. The quiet but steady rhythm calmed her nerves greatly and she was beginning to find an odd sense of peace. But then the situation would make itself known and she was back to planning a way out of it.

Remy had pulled some strings and gained confirmation that Lisa's father was alive and well though desperately searching for her. Remy had tried to dispose of the front page of a newspaper from a few days ago but Lisa found it balled up in the trash. Apparently her kidnapping made national news as Charles Keefe had entered into the search for her as well. It touched her to no end to think of the effort that these people were putting into finding her. But her father…she couldn't imagine the worry he must be feeling right now.

"Now, now, Petite," Remy had silently slipped into the chair next to her and handed her a tissue, "none of that."

She gave him a small smile and wiped her eyes. She hadn't realized she had been crying.

"Thanks. So, where's Jackson?"

"Asleep, where else." Remy stretched out his unusually long legs and rested his heels on the railing. "Doc says to give him a couple more weeks and he should be back to his normal arrogant self."

Lisa laughed a little. It was honest little comments that Remy made about Jackson that gave her a sense of camaraderie with the man. She had wanted to ask about Jackson's health but didn't want to give the impression she cared. She wasn't sure if it was because she didn't want to show an emotional weakness or if she didn't want to admit it to herself that she was genuinely worried over him. Either way, it wasn't a good idea to voice her concerns. "So, I take it you know him very well then?"

Remy chuckled. "You could say that. See, my folks ran this hotel since before I was born. And Jackson's parents, if ya want to call 'em that, worked for the Agency and lived in one of the suites."

The information he had just given her took her a moment to process. "So you and Jackson grew up together in this hotel?"

"Yup." He laughed more to himself than to her. "The trouble we caused…housekeeping hated us."

Lisa smiled at the thought of Jackson as a trouble making child but then she remembered the kind of man he grew to be and the smile faded. "So his parent's worked for the, uh, Agency, too?"

Remy nodded, his wistful smile gone as well. "Yes ma'am."

"What did they do?"

"Well," Remy turned his head back towards the penthouse, most likely trying to see if Jackson was around. Apparently he wasn't because Remy continued. "His father killed and his mother helped setting up and then cleaning up afterwards."

A wave of nausea rolled over Lisa at the thought of what might be entailed with cleaning up after a murder. It was just too horrible for her to even think about. "He said," she took a deep breath, still reeling from the thought of having parents who were murderers, "he said he killed his parents."

Remy look cautious but interested. "Did he now?"

"Yeah. It was when I first him at the airport. When he told me his name I asked him if it was Jack for short and he said no. He told me his last name and I said that it wasn't nice of parents to do that to him. And he said-"

"That's what he told them before he killed them," Remy finished.

Lisa nodded mutely.

Remy gave the inside of the penthouse another look before speaking again. "No one knows what happened in that room save for Jackson. And quite frankly, I don't think even he knows exactly what transpired. This is how I remember it, though. We were both fourteen, in junior high and a new girl got transferred into our class. Man, you talk about love at first sight, all Jackson wanted to do was stare at that girl. And she was easy on the eyes, believe me but I'm getting off track.

"I didn't know it at the time but my folks were under the employment of the Agency. Their job though was just to keep this hotel running and keep a certain amount of rooms open for their agents to stay. Well, obviously ya can't hide killing people from a curious kid like Jackson and soon, he was aware of his father's part in the Agency and wanted to keep his crush as far away from his family as possible. But that's the thing about being in the Agency, there are eyes everywhere and it didn't take long for Rippner Senior to find out about her.

"The girl didn't show up for school one day. Jackson said when he finally made it back to the suite where they were livin', his mother was stuffing bloodied up sheets into a garbage bag. Apparently, his father snatched the girl while she was on her way to school and kept her in that room all day."

Lisa swallowed the lump in her throat. "What happened to her?"

"Ah, things best not said but he cut her up so bad she bled out in the tub. She was dead by the time Jackson made it through the door. The last thing Jackson remembers about the encounter is his father saying to him 'why didn't ya tell me ya had a girlfriend, Jack?' and then nothing until the next day. Both of his parent's were found shot to death that night though. The Agency covered it up and moved him away from here and I didn't see him until five years later."

Lisa felt numb. "Why did he kill his mother? She had nothing to do with the girl's death."

"Well," Remy rubbed his forehead absently, "there are two theories on that. One, she just plain got in the way and it was an accident or Two, he did blame her for his girl's death. He's always carried this attitude with him that women are far too emotional for their own good and, I assume, he saw his mom as weak for never standing up to his dad."

It made twisted sense. She could still hear Jackson on the plane, leaning towards her and whispering those words to her. _Lisa, whatever female-driven, emotion-based dilemma you may be dealing with right now, you have my sympathy. But for the sake of time and sanity, let's break this down into a little male-driven fact-based logic. _Was it that simple? A weak mother and a sadistic father produced the man she had come to know as Jackson Rippner?

"What was the girl's name?"

Remy gave her a curious look. "Julia."

She was finding it difficult thinking of Jackson's childhood and things he must have seen and experienced. It made him too human, too vulnerable just as the fever had done. She didn't know what to do with a damaged Jackson. A violent, angry and in control Jackson, that was different. She could stand up to him, belittle and argue with him. She could fight him, inflict damage and not feel guilty over it. But if she was the stronger one, well, the dynamic just didn't work. She couldn't start feeling sympathy for him, not now. Her life still hung in the balance. Or did it? She had asked him outright if he was going to kill her and despite his veiled threats that he would, he never answered her direct question. There was a way to find out by questioning a man who knew Jackson best but she would have to be shrewd about it. Or perhaps direct was the way to go? There was only one to find out.

"Remy, may I ask you a question?"

"Of course, Petite."

"You'll be honest with me?"

"If I can."

Lisa took a deep breath. "Do you think Jackson is going to kill me?"

Remy stared at her for a long time before breaking into a wide smile and a laugh. "I highly doubt it. If he wanted ya dead, you wouldn't have made it this far."

"To New Orleans?"

"I was thinking about ya making it off that plane."

Lisa suppressed a shudder. "Why?"

"Don't really know for sure. All I can say is despite what ya think ya know of Jackson, he doesn't like killin', especially if he's the one doing it. Nice and quick has always been his trademark. Guessing he wants to stay as far away as possible from what his father was." Remy shifted in his chair. "His father liked to play before he finished the job. That's what the Agency liked about 'im, people were afraid of him."

"Isn't there anyway out of the Agency? Can't people leave, retire?"

"Why sure they can, Petite. Course, they'll be leaving in a body bag but yeah, ya can leave the Agency. The shame of it is most of us involved in this business have either been handed over as kids, blackmailed or pressured into it. Very few of us like what we do. Me, I figure I got the best job ever. I don't have leave, I have my own home and best of all," he gave devilish grin, "I haven't had to kill anyone in over a year. See, I'm more of a lover than a fighter."

Lisa tried to smile but it faltered. "I don't want to live this life." The words surprised

her. Ever since the rape two years ago she had lived every day in defiance of what had happened. She had convinced herself that no one was going to hurt her or force her to do anything again. Then Jackson came along and instead of leaving his mark on her body, he had left it on her spirit and mind and suddenly, her scar didn't seem to bother her too much anymore. The scars Jackson had left were deeper and could never be seen. And here she was, continually being hurt by him. When would it all stop?

"Well," Remy sighed deeply, "sometimes, Petite, you don't have a choice."

But that was the thing, there always was a choice.

* * *

Jackson was getting bored with laying around the last two weeks. He was normally very patient, you couldn't do eight weeks of surveillance without an infinite amount of patience. His voice was coming back, much better than he expected actually. If he sounded hoarse for the rest of his life, it was a small price to pay for a voice at all. The doctor that Remy had employed for this purpose was good. His throat was healing wonderfully, his lung was starting to become useful again and they could move on in another week or so.

They? When had he started thinking of himself and Lisa as a "they?" That was very disturbing. No, he would kill her before he left New Orleans and effectively end this screwed up part of his life. But he still had two weeks of playing mind games with her until he finally carried through with his threats. And if, for some unearthly reason he couldn't kill her then he could count on Remy to have his back. But he couldn't foresee anything coming between him and watching the life slowly leave those wide green eyes.

Something jerked painfully in his chest and he jumped out of the bed. His heart rate was up, breathing was slightly accelerated but the pain he had felt was gone. Maybe he should have the doctor check out the progress of his lung again, or possibly his heart. It couldn't…he swallowed forcefully at the thought. It couldn't have been caused by his previous train of thought, could it? It wouldn't be the first time he had been uncomfortable with killing someone but with everything she had done to him, shouldn't the feelings be coming a little easier? But that was the thing with Lisa, she always challenged him. For some unknown reason, she always found a way to be one step ahead of him.

Commotion outside of his door broke into his thoughts. He thought he heard Remy yelling, which was never a good sign, and Jackson quickly stepped out his room, making his way down the hallway. No one was in the living room area which left either the kitchen or…Lisa's room. That unfamiliar twinge in his chest presented itself again, like his heart was jumping, as he walked through the kitchen and peered into the bedroom Lisa was using. He could hear a low murmur of a voice but that was all. As he neared the bathroom, he could hear Remy's voice repeating Lisa's name over and over again. When he came around the corner, he saw Lisa laying on the marble floor of the bathroom, her head in Remy's lap was looking pale and drawn. Something flew at him and he caught it.

"That's what she took," Remy said tightly.

It was a bottle of Vicodin. "Did she take the whole bottle?"

Remy shrugged. "I called the Doc and told him what happened. He's on his way."

Jackson lowered himself to the floor and checked her pulse. It was erratic and her breathing was the same. Her eyelids were fluttering but remained mostly closed. How could she do this? Sure, he had threatened her somewhat since they came but he hadn't hurt her. Yet. Once again, she managed to one up him. He was infruiated. He was suppose to kill her, this was his turf and they were going to do things his way this time. She had no right to rob him of his victory. He wouldn't let her do this. Grabbing a hold of her shoulders, he shook her roughly.

"Lisa! Wake up!"

* * *

Lisa had decided she had waited around long enough for Jackson to make good on his threat of killing her. It was possible he wouldn't kill her but it was just as likely that he would. She wanted to show him that she still had a say in the situation, that she could still defy him. The last time the doctor had been there, she had rummaged through his bag while he was in the bathroom. She found the half filled bottle of Vicodin and hid it underneath her mattress.

She wasn't exactly pleased with the idea of suicide, she thought it to be a cowards way out. But this wasn't a way out, though, she had convinced herself. This was a way the beat Jackson at his own game. He took her, again, against her will and he kept threatening to kill her. Even though Remy doubted the sincerity of those threats, Lisa couldn't count on that to keep her alive. She felt sorry for her Dad, who she would leave behind but he most likely already thought her dead anyway. In the end, it was the best course of action. The bottle had only been half full but it still should be enough for an overdose.

The feeling of floating was incredible. It was almost like flying but without the fear. She couldn't remember feeling this relaxed and at peace. It had been so terribly long since she felt like herself. A surge of electricity went through her and she thought that this was it. Jackson may have won a few battles but she ultimately won the war. The buzz seemed to stay around her shoulder and upper arm area, putting an unpleasent pressure there. She tried to turn out of it but couldn't. Then her whole body shook and she could hear someone shouting at her. At her or to her? Maybe it was her grandmother. She opened her eyes just a bit and found the source of the pressure.

Jackson's ice blue eyes bored into her face, a mix of rage and fear contorted his face. He was practically humming with fury. She snapped her eyes shut again and felt a sob rip from her chest. She was suppose to go to heaven, wasn't she? Hadn't she suffered enough on earth? Even in death she failed. She would never escape him, never outrun him and never defeat him. Jackson would haunt her for the rest of her existance, whether she was alive or dead. It didn't matter if she fought or out smarted him, she would lose eventually. There really was only one thing to do now: she closed her eyes and gave up. But even then she could swear she heard Jackson's voice, full of rage echoing around her.

"Not like this! Come on, Leese!"

She smiled contently, enjoying the desperation in his voice.

Maybe she had won after all.


	5. A Parting of Ways

**Author's Note: **Wow...I loved the reviews that you all left! I am humbled and very pleased at your comments! Thank you so much for all your kind words! Normally, I like to post longer chapters but this one, well, it is what it is. I promise the next one will be longer.

Thank you again for all your reviews!

**Traveling Mercies**

**Chapter Five: A Parting of Ways**

If Jackson hadn't lost his mind already, he was losing it now. The doctor that had been treating him, Dr. Lewis, had turned Lisa's bedroom into a verifiable Intensive Care Unit. He had tried to pump her stomach as best he could and then injected her with a drug to counteract the vicodin that was still in her system. That had been two days ago and she still refused to wake up. The only positive aspect to this was she could breathe on her own and her vitals were strong, a positive sign that the damage wouldn't be permanent. She was just making them play a waiting game…again. Stubborn as always though, she just wouldn't open her eyes.

"Jackson, come on." Remy sat down in the chair next to him. "You've been sitting there for the last eight hours. Go sleep, eat, drink, I don't care, just move."

"I used to sit longer than this in a car waiting for her to get out of work." It was true. He knew Lisa's schedule at the hotel forwards and backwards but she always stayed at least an hour after her normal quitting time. There was one night she was four hours late and he sat in that car for a full twelve hours.

"It ain't healthy, bud. You know that, right?"

Jackson covered his face with his hands. Of course he knew it wasn't healthy but he had no strength to fight it either. Watching her had become such large part of his life, it seemed as though he ceased to exist when she wasn't in sight. He would fill his time with meaningless actions, routines or conversations until he could see her again. It was obsession and addiction all wrapped together to form one driving emotion that had no name. He found himself halfway between "want" and "need" when it came to Lisa. And it was far from healthy.

"What I don't understand," Remy was saying, "is why are ya spending my money to keep her alive when all ya want to do is kill her in the end?"

It wasn't until now that he thought about the implications of her death on him. Without Lisa, he lost what drove him. Revenge would have been completed, his humiliation finally removed from his record and his ego would be restored. Then what? Keep doing Agency jobs until the next high spirited female slammed a pen into his neck. He might not be so lucky the next time around. And the thought of a world without Lisa Reisert in it, no matter how he built it up in his mind, just wouldn't be right. It would be skewed, warped and, dare he think it, hollow.

"You ain't gonna kill her." Remy announced. "You're too attached. And now that I've met her, I can see why."

"I'm not attached." It came out as half heartedly as he felt about the statement.

"Well, then here's your chance. Lewis'll record this as a suicide and you can walk away, free as a bird. She can't fight ya now. Easiest kill there could be."

"Why are you saying this to me?"

"Because, I'm trying to get you to understand that she's your white whale."

Jackson tore his eyes from Lisa and faced Remy. "White whale?"

"Yeah, ya know, from Moby Dick. Ahab became so obsessed with trackin' down that damn whale because it was fated to be that way. Everyone has a one, that thing that drives them through this life and into the next. Some people it's drugs, other's it's alcohol. For the lucky ones, it's love. But for you, it's Lisa. She's your white whale." Remy punched him in the arm. "Read once in a while." Then his seriousness returned. "You kill her, you lose your purpose. Now, go find a something to do to get out for a few hours and then get some rest. I'll take over."

Jackson picked up the no nonsense tone in Remy's voice and knew if he didn't leave for a few hours, Remy would physically remove him from the room. Besides, Remy had given him a lot to think over. As he stood up, he took note of his stiff muscles. Perhaps a walk was in order. "Remy-"

The other man held up the access card that allowed him to come and go via the elevator, which worked only with the card. Jackson plucked it out of Remy's hand and left the room. He hadn't ventured out into the city at all since their arrival. Of course, he couldn't remember much of their arrival anyway. He ground his teeth together and punched the lobby button angrily…there was that "they" again in his thinking. Jackson and Lisa., two separate people, two different identities, not a "they."

The fresh air outside seemed to clear his head somewhat and give him some break from the stifling indoors. Remy's penthouse was nice but there was something about being outside of four walls. And that's when it hit him. A place with no walls, no Lisa and possibly some rest. He could arrange it so he could leave tomorrow, have Remy set Lisa up in the hospital and give Joe Reisert an anonymous tip on where to find his daughter. Possibly even send her right back to Miami.

Lisa would recover, she was a fighter despite this annoying little trick she had tried to pull, and the hunt could continue. Remy was right. Lisa was his purpose. He would wait until she thought he was gone from her life forever before he would pop in again and steal her away like he did before. Perhaps by then, he would finally manage to nurture that killer instinct to finish the job. But could he finish the job when he had to? His reaction to Lisa's overdose was frightening in it's intensity. That jerky movement in his chest was puzzling too. Was it remorse? Fear? Well, he would have plenty of time to figure it out.

He needed time away from the issue, away from Lisa. Sending her back to Miami would be the best thing. He would have Remy keep tabs on her and when he was feeling more like himself, he would re-establish contact and try again. With new resolve, he walked the familiar streets until he found a pay phone and placed a call that would take him from New Orleans and hopefully give him the peace he so desperately needed.

* * *

Lisa fiddled with the heart rate monitor that clipped onto her finger. She had woken up three days after her suicide attempt with Jackson gone and her father by her bedside. The national search had been called off, Keefe had called her yesterday expressing his relief at her being found and recovery. She had put on a smile and thanked everyone but at times like this, when she was left alone, she couldn't help but feel utter, bitter disappointment. She couldn't figure out if it was because she had survived or that Jackson was gone.

"Hey, Petite."

A real smile blossomed on her face and she dimly wondered when she started to feel more of an affinity for Remy instead of her friends. "Hi, Remy." He waltzed into the Miami General Hospital room with his Cajun saunter and lopsided grin.

"You gave us a scare."

Her smile faltered slightly. "'Us,' huh?"

He didn't say anything as he sat down in the chair next to the bed and just kept grinning at her. Even though he had blue eyes they were nothing like Jackson's. Remy's had a warmth to them and was a deep shade of blue.

"Where did he go?" she asked.

"Why haven't ya told them who I really am? A fellow hotel manager, I believe ya told 'em."

Lisa fiddled with the heart monitor clip again, ignoring the obvious dodge of her question. "Is he alright?"

Remy's eyes widened. "You're asking if he's okay when you're the one who tried to off herself? Lisa, you're confusing me."

She leaned her head back on the pillow. "I'm confusing myself. I don't know what's wrong with me, Remy."

"Why did ya do it, Petite? Why take all those pills?"

Shame colored her cheeks and she couldn't look at Remy anymore. "I wanted to show him that he couldn't control me. That I would find a way out of anything he threw at me. I guess," she bite her lip, "I guess it showed what a coward I was."

Remy laughed loudly. "A coward? You? Oh, come on. You've faced off with one of the most notorious managers in the Agency and lived to tell about it. You are not a coward."

"Why is that, Remy? Why have I walked away? You owe me an answer."

"I don't have one, Petite. Only Jackson can answer that. He's the one who let you walk away."

Lisa looked out the window, a haze already hanging around the tall buildings of downtown Miami. "My dad thinks I have Stockholm Syndrome because I can't stop thinking about him. Wondering if he's all healed now, where is he, what is he doing. Is he boarding a plane and harassing some other woman or sitting in a bar and guessing an air headed girl's favorite drink."

"What do you think, Petite? Do you think you have this syndrome?"

"I don't know. I still have a part of me that hates him, though. I hate what he does and what he did. I hate his cruelty and callousness. And yet…"

"You understand him."

Lisa tried to look affronted but couldn't quite come up the emotion to back it up. "I don't think so."

Remy winked at her. "Keep telling yourself that, Petite. When are you leaving here?"

"Tomorrow."

"Well," he stood up from the chair and handed her a business card, "I have to get back home. I'm glad you're going to be fine, Petite. You ever need anything, give me a call. And on the other side," he walked over to the door and turned around, "is the name and number of the person who he's with."

Lisa flipped the card over and read the name, Kaylee Fisher with a phone number written neatly underneath of it. Lisa went to ask Remy who Kaylee was but he had already left the room. She could hear Remy just down the hall saying his goodbyes to her Dad. She knew what she should do with the card, hand it over to the authorities. They could track him down and lock him up for good. But when she heard her Dad's footsteps approach the door, she quickly shoved the business card under the mattress. The irony was not lost on her that the hiding spot of her only connection to Jackson was the same as where she had hidden the vicodin.


	6. Stillwell

**Author's Note: **Hi all! Another huge round of thank you's to all my reviewers! You guys are just absolutely wonderful! Also, I am painfully shy when it comes to writing anything that deals with kissing and so on, so please bear with me as I'm trying to break myself of this habit. Not that I'm upping the rating to an "M" but still, I know I lack some finesse when it comes to the more intimate scenes. I'm still learning...

**Traveling Mercies**

**Chapter Six: Stillwell**

_Before I got here, I thought for a long time that the way out of the labyrinth was to pretend that it did not exist, to build a small, self-sufficient world in a back corner of the endless maze and to pretend that I was not lost, but home._

_-From "Finding Alaska" _

Lisa tried. She spent two months trying. Spending less time at work and more time with her Dad, trying to make friends and yes, even therapy. She tried so hard to be what she thought she should until she woke up one day and realized she didn't recognize the face that stared back at her in the mirror. She was trying to be normal which would have been fine, except she wasn't normal. Not anymore. She hadn't been normal since that day in the parking lot and it took Jackson Rippner to show her the fighter she had become. She had tried to return to the woman she was before the rape but that woman was gone forever. It was time to stop trying to get her back.

She fiddled with the new license that Remy had procured for her as well as the stub of her plane ticket to Oklahoma City. Remy had given her a new identity, complete with credit cards and some cash. She had left Miami without telling anyone, even her father. She had put in extra time with him these last two months and it pained her to keep this from him. He would worry but hopefully, in the end, he would understand. She had tied up enough loose ends for him to realize she left of her volition. She had also trained Cynthia, little by little in case she got suspicious, how to be a day manager at the Lux. The hotel was in good hands and that made leaving slightly easier.

It was when she was waiting outside the Oklahoma City Airport that she was having trouble rationalizing this impromptu trip. Of all places for her to run off to, she had to choose a horse ranch in some place called Stillwell, Oklahoma. Of all people for her to run to, it was Jackson Rippner. But it had to be Jackson and no one else. She had spent the last few weeks hashing it out in her mind every sleepless night and over ever plate of scrambled eggs that were eaten in the pre-dawn hours. The rape had broken her, Jackson had pulverized the pieces but she had picked up the pieces and put herself back together on the plane. Not only did she challenge him, she beat him. Ultimately, he had been the glue that sealed the splinters of her spirit back together. He was at once her destroyer and creator. Which meant only he held the answers about what she was to do with her life now that it no longer fit who she was.

"Well, you must be Lisa," someone shouted.

Lisa saw a woman climb out of a pick up truck and make her way over to her. She was slightly shorter than Lisa but thin and toned. She looked like the real deal cowgirl Remy had made her out to be, right down to the hat and belt buckle. "Kaylee?"

She flashed a wide grin. "You bet. I must say, you are prettier than your picture."

Lisa found that odd. "Did Remy send you a picture?"

"No, Jackson has one. I actually found it by accident so," she winked, "let's just keep that to ourselves."

Lisa tried to hide her uneasiness at the thought of what picture Jackson had in his possession. Did he keep a picture from her father's wallet or did he take one of his own? If he did the latter, she shuddered to think of what that picture just might be. He had eight weeks to take it without her knowing.

"Oh, sweetie, don't worry," Kaylee had already picked up Lisa's suitcase and tossed it into the back of the truck. "They're really nice pictures."

Pictures? It went from "picture" to "pictures." That really did not sit well with her. What was she doing here? What made her think that Jackson was the one to help her understand herself when a trained therapist couldn't do it? The absurdity of the situation hit her as she stared at the idling pick up truck and bright eyed cowgirl standing by it. Perhaps she wasn't as strong as she thought.

"What's the matter, Lisa?"

"I think I made a mistake in coming here." She reached into the truck bed and tried to grab her suitcase. She could turn around and get back on a plane to Miami and just say that she wasn't feeling well and no one would be the wiser.

"You came here for answers, didn't you?"

Lisa paused, her hand on the suitcase handle. "What kind of answers do I need, Kaylee?"

The other woman regarded Lisa with a very calculating look for a few moments. "I'm not the one with the questions. Only you know what brought you here."

Lisa shook her head. "No, I really don't."

Kaylee gave her a small smile. "Sure you do. So climb in, we've got about a two hour drive ahead of us!"

Lisa reluctantly let go of her suitcase and climbed into the truck, almost against her better judgment. She waited until they were on the highway, the airport safely behind them before Lisa asked a question that had been weighing on her mind the entire flight out to Oklahoma. "Does he know I'm here?"

Kaylee let out a short laugh. "Hell no, sweetie. I'm not suicidal!"

Lisa turned her eyes back to the surroundings that were passing by her. She could still hear Jackson saying the same words on the red eye flight right before everything fell apart and he changed from that charming, sweet guy she shared a drink with into the person he really was. And for the hundredth time that day, she asked herself why she came.

* * *

There were only a handful of people that Jackson didn't mind being around all the time. Remy was one of them and Kaylee was the other. But when Kaylee announced that she would be gone for the better part of the day, running an "errand," he couldn't help but feel a sense of relief. Finally, some alone time. He had tried reading, watching TV and just wandering around the large farm house that he was calling his temporary home, but nothing caught his attention. Finally, he ended up out in the barn and faced the memories that building held for him. He was hopeful those memories would block out the ones that were haunting him every waking hour and even in his sleep at times.

He had heard that Kaylee's mother, Anna, had passed away a few years ago but he was pleasantly surprised to hear that Kaylee was now running Anna's horse farm. She had semi-followed in her mother's footsteps and took in transit children that the Agency was moving around and needed a place to stay for a few weeks before their new "home" opened up. Thankfully, there were no kids on the farm at the present time but she never knew when she would get a call about one coming. When she did, he would have to move on and find someplace else to hide out. Kaylee wasn't that involved with the Agency but she had already said they had stopped out at the farm before he came and searched the premises so he would be safe for another month or two.

He was slightly surprised that most of the stalls were occupied with a range of horses: appaloosas, pintos, thoroughbreds and even a palomino. He went into the feed room and started rummaging through the tack boxes and shelves until he found a bag of apples. As he turned to leave, his eye caught the feed bin and he had to smile. There was still a large crack running down the center of the wooden lid and for the first time in a very long time a pleasant memory came to mind.

He and Kaylee had been sixteen at the time, spring was making its appearance and with it that sense of bold daring. They were feeding the horses that evening and Kaylee was talking about this boy she had a crush on in her class who had asked her out to the movies next week. She was confiding in him, as she had come to do for the last year, about how she didn't know what to do if this kid wanted to kiss her. Jackson, being the gentleman that he was, asked her if she wanted to practice on him so she wouldn't be so nervous for her movie date. The truth of the matter was, he had never kissed a girl before and with what happened with Julia, he wasn't sure if he ever would. But Kaylee was safe, she would keep it to herself and wouldn't make a big deal about it. So, she agreed.

After a couple nose bumps and figuring out where to put their hands, they fell into place. He figured she was thinking of this boy and he was imagining it being Julia. Kaylee wasn't pulling away and he was unprepared for the rush of feeling someone that close to him. Believing that everything done in movies was a mirror of what happened in real life, he picked her up by the waist and set her down on top of feed bin, amazingly enough still keeping their lips connected. A second later there was a loud crack and Kaylee was sitting in the half full bin, a look of shock on her flushed face.

He couldn't stop laughing as he tried to pull her out but she had failed to see the humor in the situation. She had picked up the disregarded feed buckets and marched out of the feed room, saying that it felt like she was kissing her brother. But now, fifteen years later, the crack still remained on the feed bin which only meant the memory was just as treasured to her as it surprisingly was to him. He did have to agree with her though, she always felt more like a sister to him than a potential love interest. She and Remy were the closest thing to siblings he would ever have in this life. Hell, they were the closest thing to family he would ever have.

He fed the palomino horse the apple and walked up and down the aisle of the barn a few times, stopping to look at certain horses. He wondered briefly if Kaylee had kept his saddle. It had been over ten years since he last rode a horse but he remembered the peaceful feelings that went along with it. However, he wasn't about to just pick a horse and go off on his own. His throat was starting to feel normal, his breathing was becoming stronger and he wasn't ready to risk picking the wrong horse, ending up with broken bones and more recovery time. Instead, he went over to a couple hay bales that were stacked up against a stall and sat down, stretching his legs out in front of him. He was only going to close his eyes for a minute but sleep had been an ever present friend these last few months.

It was probably due to where he had fallen asleep and the memories that were just going through his mind that created the dream. He was back in the feed room, kissing a woman again. He wasn't fifteen and neither was she and it defiantly wasn't Kaylee. The build was slightly similar, the body just as toned but the feelings behind the fervent kisses was completely different. There was tingling down his spine, like a low electric current. There was a passion, a drive behind every kiss and touch that he hadn't felt…ever. Sure, there had been some women that evoked those feelings but there wasn't that desperate need that ran beneath the want.

Want and need…something between want and need. When had he been thinking about that, who had he been thinking about? With an enormous effort, he pulled back from the clinging woman, and opened his eyes. Her name came out as a hiss of pain and shock.

"Leese."

And he woke up with a jerk to the sound of the pick up truck coming down the gravel driveway. Groaning, he sat up and brushed the hay off of his clothes. His lips still tingled and it left him edgy, unnerved. It wasn't the first dream he had had of Lisa. They started when he was in the hospital, recovering from the pen in the throat and bullet wounds. The dreams had started with him killing her, slowly and with much bloodshed but then they began to change. The bloodlust faded to just plain lust. It would disappear in time, he tried to convince himself as he stood up and ran a hand through his hair. Lust he could deal with, he had dealt with much worse over the years.

Someone was walking out to the barn and Jackson hoped Kaylee was in a good mood. He couldn't take her bad mood right now, not with him being in one himself. But the footsteps sounded different than Kaylee's. They were less sure of the footing, hesitant almost. Instinct took over and he ducked into one of the stalls that was being used to store hay and stray. Wedging himself between the bales and the dark, back corner, he could see out of the slats of the stall wall. The stranger had come into the barn but it couldn't have been anyone from the Agency. They were too timid and too noisy.

"Well, aren't you pretty?"

Jackson almost choked and had to literally bite his tongue to keep quiet. He would have recognized that voice anywhere. Lisa. Once in control of himself, he peered out from the stall and he could see her stroking the palomino's neck. Of course, he thought with a wry grin, she had to pick the horse he liked. Well, he had to give her credit, she did know a good thing when she saw it. She had, after all, taken him up on his offer for a drink in the airport.

Then he heard Kaylee's surefooted sprint that came to a skidding halt at the other end of the barn. Lisa's head whipped around to face the entrance of the barn and Kaylee caught her breath.

"You alright, Lisa?"

Lisa's eyes roved over the barn, not once resting on his hiding place. "Yeah. Why?"

"Oh," Kaylee's voice held a slight note of surprise. Jackson wondered if Lisa heard it or if that was just something that he would pick up on since he knew her so well. "It's just…no worries."

Lisa backed away from the horse and really started to study her surroundings. It was fascinating to watch for Jackson. No longer was she fearful and jerky. She wasn't looking without seeing this time. She had changed in the last two months. She was more sure of herself, more aware. He wondered if she had taken self defense classes or gone through some successful therapy to warrant the change. If it came down to tousle with her now, she just might be a worthy opponent. For some reason, he took a deep sense of pride in this new and improved Lisa. It would be interesting to see just how deep this change went.

"He's not in the house, is he?" Lisa's voice held a tinge of worry but determination. He would most certainly have to watch his back now.

"He really could be anywhere," Kaylee was saying. "It's a very large piece of property. I'll show you around the house and you can get settled in. I can pretty much guarantee he'll show up for dinner. They always do."

Jackson held back a snort of disgust. Nice, Kaylee. Lisa only gave half a smile before patting the horse once more and leaving the barn. Jackson waited until he heard the door of the house slam shut before emerging from his hiding place. He would have to really think about how to play this now. He hadn't expected Lisa to show up here. Remy must have told her where he was. Well, he would deal with Remy later. He was going to wait until he was fully recovered and had an iron proof plan before taking Lisa out but once again, she got one step ahead of him. This was getting to be a dance that she was leading and he would put a stop to it immediately.

All thoughts and feelings tied to the dream he had were gone. Shoving his hands into his pockets, he slowly ambled his way up to the farm house. He would be the picture of cool, collected assassin that he had been on the plane. He would scare her until she lost her footing, trip her up and make her realize she was no match for a master like himself. Perhaps now he could get those damned dreams to go away, using his anger and resentment to ward off the disturbing ethereal feelings of her skin under his fingers and her lips on his.

_Are you ready for round two, Leese?_


	7. Found

**Author's Note: **Hello to all my wonderful readers and reviewers! I'm sorry for the shorter than normal chapter but I had to break it up this way or else you would be reading a fifteen page document! Thank you so much for your time with reading this story and an extra helping of thanks to those who review!

One minor change: "Stillwell" is actually spelled "Stilwell." That was my boo boo. A thousand apologies.

**Traveling Mercies **

**Chapter Seven: Found**

Kaylee positioned herself by the window that faced the barn. There really was no other place for Jackson to be but out there. He must have been hiding and she tried to suppress a smug smirk at the thought of him hiding in some dark corner of the old building. She'd rub it in later when it was just him and her.

"What do you think his reaction will be?" Lisa asked, a sense of timidity in her voice.

"I don't know," Kaylee answered truthfully. It could range from anger to cool indifference. That was Jackson's way. He always kept you guessing, even those he was relatively close to couldn't predict his mood changes. She always chalked it up to him being in complete control of himself and picking moods to that would best suit his needs. But hearing his account of the failed Keefe attempt, she realized something that scared her: he couldn't control his emotions when he spoke of Lisa. Just the mere mention of her name sent him off either ranting or brooding.

And speak of the devil, Kaylee saw him sauntering up from the barn. So he had been there and he was more prepared for the impromptu meeting than Lisa was at this point. If she was going to stand chance against him, she needed to get her bearings and be prepared for the maelstrom. "Here he comes so I guess we're about to find out about that reaction."

There the sound a chair scraping against the floor and Kaylee turned to see Lisa backing herself up against the wall, a deer caught in the headlights look on her face. If she was that scared of the man, why did she seek him out? Willingly this time, no less. Jackson could smell fear and he would only feed off of that. She had to get Lisa out of the room.

"Sweetie," Kaylee said, "why don't you go up to your room and get some rest. I'll tell him you're here so if he gets mad, he takes it out on me."

"I don't want-"

Kaylee held up her hand. "Trust me. I hit back."

"I came on my own," she swallowed convulsively. "I should be able to face him."

"Why don't you go take a shower and face him at dinner," Kaylee winked. "Make him wait."

She smiled slightly and acted as though she would stand her ground but when they heard his footsteps on the porch, she was gone. Kaylee briefly shook her head and turned just as Jackson was coming through the door. "Quit the act, she ain't here."

He feigned ignorance but not that well. "Who?"

Kaylee pulled out chicken from the refrigerator and dropped it on the counter. "Now I get why you don't lie. You can't. I know you know she's here."

"You just said she wasn't here."

"She's up in her room, smart ass." She heard him sit down at the table and quickly turned

around. "Uh-uh. You're helping me cook tonight."

He gave her a slightly surprised look but stood up. "Yes, ma'am."

She set him to work on peeling on potatoes while she breaded the chicken for frying. She waited for the sound of the shower running upstairs before starting a conversation with Jackson. "You should try to play nice." She could feel his glare on her.

"Fine. Did you hide all the pens, knives and anything else that can be used to puncture skin? Being stabbed again might diminish my ability to 'play nice.'"

Kaylee flashed him a cocky grin. "You're a big boy. Deal with it."

"Why is she here?" All sarcasm was out of his voice, genuine curiosity replacing it.

"Don't know. You'll have to ask her that. Maybe she's here to finish you before you could finish her."

"She's a fighter, not a killer."

"Well," Kaylee started pulling out pans, "maybe she's here for closure."

"Closure on what? Seeing me buried?"

"Or perhaps closure on the situation where a homicidal manic chased her through her an airport and her father's house, raving mad and intent of killing her. Maybe all she wants is to know that you're going to leave her alone."

Jackson laughed. "Funny way of finding out if I'm going to leave her alone."

"Which brings us back to square one: we don't know why she's here. All I want is for you two to work this out whatever way you see fit."

Jackson nodded. "Fair deal."

"Without blood shed and violence." Kaylee fixed him with a hard look. "Not on my property, Jackson Rippner."

His eyes narrowed slightly. "I can't promise that."

Kaylee dropped a heavy cast iron skillet onto the burner of the stove with a loud crash. "I wasn't asking for a promise. I'm telling you what I expect."

"I'm not one of your damn kids, Kaylee."

She knew he was mad, she could see it in his eyes. All he needed was one last push. "Then quit acting like one of them."

And he had enough. Kaylee watched him clench and unclench his jaw, his eyes turning from that icy blue to the burning intensity of a blow torch. He slammed the knife he had been using into wooden cutting board before storming out of the kitchen. The knife handle was still vibrating as she watched the pick up truck speed down the driveway, kicking up gravel and dust until it was out of sight.

She couldn't believe it worked. She was certain he would see right through her attempts to get him mad and just let everything roll of his back like he normally did. It confused her to no end but at the same time her suspicions were starting to appear more and more grounded. Jackson was so used to being in control of situations, events and even himself. There was something about Lisa that broke through all of that fine tuned control and caused him to _feel _on a very deep level. It was something he would have figure out, and only he could do it. By alienating herself from him meant he only had one person to confide in here and even though it would take weeks for him to finally do so, he would have no choice but to talk to Lisa.

* * *

Jackson was on his third beer before he realized he shouldn't be spending so much time out in the open like this, even if it was some backwater bar in Oklahoma. But he wasn't ready to face the two women back at the ranch that were no doubt waiting for him. He laughed to himself. Knowing Kaylee, after hearing Lisa's account of their travels from Texas to Miami and then to New Orleans, both of them would be sitting on the front porch with shot guns. Lisa wouldn't kill him, she didn't have it in her. But Kaylee was another matter, especially when her "maternal instinct" kicked in on some poor lost soul. Unfortunately for him, Lisa fit that bill perfectly.

"Jackson?"

He tried to suppress a groan and only half succeeded. A leggy blonde with too much make-up was leaning on the bar next to him. Just what he needed, another woman. "Can I help you?"

"It is you!" She slapped his shoulder. "I thought so. Don't you remember me?"

He gave her another quick glance over but no one came to mind. He would have remembered those legs though. "Nope, sorry."

"It's Sally Ann, you know, from Stilwell High."

He rarely spent time in class and barely passed with his high school diploma. His time wasn't spent fraternizing with his classmates. Despite his slightly inebriated mind, he couldn't ignore the warning bells going off in his mind. If she wanted to play, he would play. He put on his best smile. "Sally Ann, that's right. Now I remember you."

"You have me worried there, Jackson. I was afraid you forgot about me."

He shrugged, still keeping that easy going smile plastered on his face. "How could I forget you? Senior Prom, right?"

She laughed lightly and sat down next to him, moving the bar stool closer to him so her leg brushed up against his. "That's right! What a great night, huh?"

He laughed with her easily, feeling some satisfaction that he still had what it took to be a manager, even if it was just some ditzy blonde who was being paid more money than she would see in five years of being a waitress by the Agency to distract him. But why? Something must have happened to cause them to up the chase for him. His eyes flicked up to one of the televisions that were bolted above the bar. Thankfully only one out of the two was airing bull riding while the other was tuned in to the news. He didn't even have to hear the report, the headline was sufficient.

_Deputy Director of Homeland Security Charles Keefe Assassinated._

The news sobered him up completely and his mind started to kick into high gear. This girl, Sally Ann, was a distraction, but from what? He scanned the bar as thoroughly as he could but nothing seemed out of the ordinary with the level of patrons. If they weren't going to take him out here, then they might be waiting for him outside. Or back at the farm where Kaylee and Lisa were sitting there waiting for him to come back. He leaned towards Sally Ann, giving her a sly grin.

"What do you say we head back to your place and reenact that prom night, huh? For old time's sake?"

Her smile broadened and she twirled her keys around her finger. "I'm ready if you are."

"Excellent." Jackson tossed a few bills down on the bar and followed her out of the bar.

"I had a buddy drop me off earlier. You mind if we take your car?"

"Oh, I didn't bring one either. I walked."

That was good. Whoever paid her off could have very well put a car bomb on her car as well as his. He watched every shadow as they made their way down the main street and stopped by an old apartment building. He followed her up the wooden steps and into her apartment. As soon as she had the door closed and locked, he had her up against the door, a hand clamped over her mouth.

"Listen to me closely. I barely went to high school and sure as hell didn't show up for prom. There was no Sally Ann at Stilwell High. I want to know who you're working for and why."

She shook her head, her eyes wide with fear.

"Aw, that's a shame there Sally, because I know how this game works and I'm guessing you don't. So, either we can do this easy and you tell me what I need to know or we can do it the long, painful way. Which way do you want it?"

Big, fat tears rolled down her face and leaked between his fingers. It reminded him of Lisa and the desperate need to learn what was being planned before they all ended up like Keefe overwhelmed him. And there he was back to the "they" again with Lisa. Shit.

"Okay," she said against his hand and he released her slowly. "Some guy came into the bar this afternoon, showed me a picture and said if I distracted you when you came into the bar next he would pay me fifty grand."

"Fifty grand? That's it?" What a slap in the face.

"It's enough for college," she sobbed.

He knew better than to ask her why they wanted him distracted, they wouldn't have told her anything important. He would have to check over the truck, make sure nothing was attached to it before he went back to the ranch. He relinquished his hold the girl and she slumped down to the floor. "My suggestion to you is get out town fast and don't look back."

"Why?"

She had fallen in front of the door and didn't look like she was getting up anytime soon so he grabbed her by the shoulders and moved her out of the way. "Do yourself a favor and don't ask questions like that."


	8. Before the Dawn

**Traveling Mercies**

**Chapter Eight: Before the Dawn**

_It is always darkest before the dawn. _

When Lisa fled the kitchen, berating herself for her cowardice every step of the way, she decided to redeem herself by taking this time to do some snooping. She turned on the shower and kept listening to the rising voices below her as she moved from room to room. She found what was the master bedroom just from the personal touches in the room. There were clothes thrown over an old rocking chair in the corner and judging from the bright pink t-shirt, this must be Kaylee's room. Figuring Kaylee would be more than forthcoming with information, Lisa quietly shut the door and moved to the other bedroom that was not hers. As she passed in front of the stairs, Jackson's irritated voice drifted up to her.

She opened the door to the other room and heard the front door slam shut. Listening for a moment the only thing she heard was the roar of the pick up truck. She released a sigh at the thought of Jackson leaving and went farther into the room. It had to have been his room, it smelled like him. She had to suppress a shiver than went down her spine at that thought. It was the same scent that she associated with their brief time that stretched to an eternity in the airplane bathroom. She could still feel his hands around her neck and that scent that was only Jackson filling the enclosed space. Shaking her head and pushing that memory out of her mind, she started looking around the room.

He must have been there for the last couple months. His suitcase was empty and in the bottom of a very organized closet. She had never seen a man's room so clean. She laughed to herself for being surprised at his obsessive compulsiveness. Next to the suitcase on the floor was a wooden box that seemed out of place in the closet. It had an inlaid design of a rose on the lid and was roughly the size of a hat box. Jackson didn't seem to be the sentimental type and she wondered if the box was Kaylee's.

Sitting down on the floor, she pulled the box into her lap and opened the hinged lid. Surprise, a slight twinge of anger but mostly sadness overcame her. It was Jackson's box. There were pictures of her on the top of the contents in the box. She pulled out close to ten photos, all taken either in or near the Lux Atlantic. But there were two at the bottom of her pile, their edges worn like he had looked at them often. She was on the beach, just sitting there. It had been after she had received the news of her grandmother's passing. He had even infringed on that personal moment.

Underneath the photos of herself, she found more pictures. Some of them were of Remy most likely during Mardi Gras given the state of dress, or rather undress of some ladies in the picture. A few pictures of Kaylee, some from just around the ranch and others of her on various horses doing barrel racing. The last one, all the way at the bottom of the box was one that shocked her.

It was even more worn that the ones of her on the beach. There was a pretty woman with straight blond hair and deep blue eyes, smiling brightly sitting next to Jackson, who was grinning just as widely. It wasn't like any expression she had seen on his face the entire time she had known him. It was a honest, everything is right with the world smile. The other shocking thing about the picture was the blond woman was holding a young child with the brightest blue eyes and dark hair.

"I thought that was an awfully long shower."

Lisa jumped at the sound of Kaylee at the door. "I'm sorry."

Kaylee waved her hand dismissively. "I expected you to snoop. I would have." She thought for a moment. "I did, actually." She sat down on the bed. "I see you found the pictures."

Lisa held up the picture she had been looking at. "Who are these people?"

A strange look came over Kaylee's face and she gently took the picture from Lisa. She sat quietly, so quietly Lisa could hear the water in the shower running and the house settle around them. Kaylee ran her fingertips over the faces in the pictures in silent reverence. Lisa felt like she was intruding on something deeply personal and suddenly wanted to put all the pictures back into the box and forget she ever saw them. Kaylee finally looked up at her, with tears in her eyes and passed the photograph back.

"That is definitely something that Jackson will need to tell you about."

"She's very pretty," Lisa commented.

"She was very kind as well."

"Was?"

Kaylee nodded and wiped her eyes. "You remind me of her somewhat. She was a fighter too. It didn't save her in the end, but she tried."

"What was her name?"

Kaylee opened her mouth but quickly snapped it shut. "No, that's for Jackson to tell."

Lisa gave the oddly normal photo one last look before replacing it back into the bottom of the box and piling the rest of the photos on top of it again. Logically, she would assume that it was his wife and child but the idea of Jackson being married with a family just seem absurd to her. She had seem him angry, spiteful, rattled and even charming a very long time ago but thinking of him as loving didn't fit with the mental image she had concocted. He was selfish, heartless and cruel. Wasn't he? She pushed the box back into the closet and shut the door, desperately trying to keep the Jackson she thought she knew firmly rooted in her hatred. She felt with every heartbeat that hatred loosening into a desire to find out more about him.

The sound of tires on gravel interrupted her thoughts on her raging emotions. Kaylee had gone to the window and looked out before grabbing Lisa and scrambling out of the room. Lisa was tripping over her own feet as Kaylee half pulled her back into the master bedroom. Lisa went to ask what was going on when Kaylee put a finger to her lips. Kaylee pulled back a rug from the floor to reveal a cleverly hidden trap door. She pulled up two floorboards that revealed a small crawlspace and motioned for Lisa to get in. She didn't think twice and squeezed herself into the empty space. She wondered how Kaylee was going to fit in there with her but the floorboards were dropped over her face and the rug thrown over them. Lisa fought the urge to panic and concentrated on the sounds around her.

The shower was turned off and she heard Kaylee walked down the stairs. The screen door opened and there was a polite level of voices speaking outside. Just when Lisa thought the danger was over, two loud shotgun blasts ripped through the air followed by a single gunshot and then nothing. Lisa covered her mouth to keep from screaming, crying or any other noise escaping her. The front door opened again and there were various footsteps that seemed to cover everywhere in the house.

Sounds of ransacking and things being broken echoed around her in her tomb under the floorboards. Then she heard people enter Kaylee's bedroom. They trampled over her hiding spot and opened closet doors and dresser drawers, spilling contents over the floor. At one point, Lisa was certain she was done for. The rug was snatched away from above her and she could see the soles of plain black shoes. She tried not to breath and closed her eyes. After a few minutes inspection, the rug dropped back over her and she slowly released the breath that she had been holding.

"Found a suitcase," a man's voice spoke up from the door.

"Rippner's?"

"Not unless he's into wearing black lace."

There was ruffle of crude laughter above her. "We all have our secrets."

"You don't think it's his mark, do you?" another male voice interjected.

"What mark?" a woman laughed. "You don't think the Reisert woman is here do you?"

"Naw," the man standing directly above her said. "Last I heard she was still in Miami. Fisher takes in kids, could be a new kid."

"An older kid. There were some bras in the luggage too."

"Well, if there's a kid here, we'll find them. You and you, go check out the barn."

Lisa listened as more things were thrown around, wondering where Kaylee was. She hoped she had found a hiding place too and was just waiting for these men to leave. It seemed like time had stopped and refused to move as she listened to the drone of people swarming all over the farmhouse but eventually, they left. She heard tires on the gravel again and then silence. Crickets were chirping and Lisa felt like night had descended on them. She thought Kaylee would show up, pulling up the floorboards and releasing her from her rug covered prison but when Lisa had counted to two thousand and no Kaylee, she wondered if she should just get out herself. She pushed experimentally on the floorboards above her when she heard a car again.

It sounded like the pick up truck of Kaylee's and for once, Lisa prayed it was Jackson. The engine didn't turn off but she heard someone get out of the truck. A few seconds later, the front door opened and she heard someone else in the house. There was no sound of anything being broken or turned over this time. The footsteps cautiously climbed the stairs and she heard all the other rooms being investigated before the person entered the room. Lisa held her breath again in case it wasn't Jackson but it was only a matter of seconds before the rug was thrown back the floorboards removed and she was staring up at those familiar blue eyes. Holding in a sob of joy, she let him pull her out of the crawl space and she saw it was indeed night.

"Where's Kaylee?" she asked.

Jackson looked around the room distractedly. "Go get whatever you can in the next few minutes and meet me downstairs."

"Jackson, where's Kaylee?"

But he didn't answer her and quickly left the room. Lisa stayed there in stunned silence, and looked at the chaos around her. Every drawer had been dumped, Kaylee's clothes had been thrown all around. A bottle of her perfume must have broken and the smell filled the room. Jackson passed by in front of the room, gave her a quick look before disappearing again. She didn't know how long she stood there in the moonlight until Jackson came back for her.

"Lisa, let's go."

* * *

He tried so hard not to let his anger and grief get the better of him. He needed to get Lisa and get them out of here. He was surprised to find that the Agency only left two people watching the farm. Both were ridiculously easy to dispatch thanks to a silencer. He didn't have much time to sort through all his clothes that had been tossed around the room so he opted for grabbing random stuff and throwing it into his bag. They had dumped the box of pictures and he quickly scooped them up and put them back into the box. The picture of him, Sara and Joel fell on top and he felt that jerky, twinge in his chest. He shoved the picture back to the bottom of the box before adding the entire container to his bag and zipping it up.

He walked past Kaylee's bedroom and saw Lisa still standing there. She was going to be no help whatsoever and he shuddered to think what awaited her outside that room. He did his best to gather up her clothes and put them back into her suitcase. He tried desperately to force down the emotions that were once again raging inside his chest. When he had pulled up to the front of the house, there were three bodies laying in front of the porch steps: two Agency thugs and Kaylee. Apparently she had gotten off two shot gun shots before someone had mercifully shot her in the forehead. He knew better than to say she didn't see it coming. She had hidden Lisa and went out to face them with a twelve gauge. She knew what was coming and, thankfully, they didn't make her suffer.

He headed back into the Kaylee's bedroom when he had his bag and the suitcase ready to go. Lisa was still standing there, dumbstruck. Maybe he could sneak her out without her even seeing Kaylee's body.

"Leese?"

No reaction.

"Lisa." Finally she turned her head. "Let's go."

She blinked a couple times. "I didn't get-"

He held up her suitcase and she forcefully put one foot in front of the other. He needed that fighter back. He needed to push her, to get her mad but he just didn't have it in him at the moment. Knowing Kaylee was gone, wondering about Remy's safety and having the reminder of Sara and Joel's loss thrown in his face as well, he was having a hard time finding that fighter inside of himself. He heard her following him down the stairs and out the front door. By the time he threw her suitcase and his bag into the back of the pick up truck, Lisa screamed.

Wearily, he turned around and made his way over to where Lisa was kneeling next to Kaylee. Lisa was sobbing, one hand covering her mouth and the other hovering over Kaylee's shoulder. Jackson gave her a few seconds before taken hold of her arm and tugging her to her feet.

"We can't stay around, Lisa. We have to go."

"We can't leave her here."

"Well, we can't take her with us."

Lisa turned and glared at him through her tears. Good, there was a little bit of the fighter back. He latched onto that and realized with some worry that he was depending on her at the moment to get them through the night.

"You don't care for anyone do you?"

And just like that, he was able to close himself off from emotions and slip into his managerial mindset. "No, Leese. I'm sure you've figured out by now, no one is safe in this business. Getting attached is pointless." With a rough jerk, he pulled Lisa with him towards the truck and half lifted, half shoved her into the passenger seat. He climbed behind the wheel of the still idling pick up truck and let his gaze fall once more on where Kaylee laid. He wished their last conversation had been on more friendly terms but there was nothing to do about that now.

"Put on your seatbelt," he snapped as he put the truck into drive and sped down the gravel driveway. He would keep driving west. Declan would know what the next step should be but Scottsdale, Arizona was over a thousand miles away. They would have to stop in a small town for a cheap motel and a new car. As the empty, straight highways of Oklahoma spread out in front of him, he pulled out his cell phone and dialed Remy's number. It was close to one in the morning which meant it was two in New Orleans. Despite the early morning hour, Remy picked up on the second ring and sounded awake.

"Jackson? What's the matter?"

He willed himself not to show any emotional reaction with Lisa sitting next to him. "Kaylee," his throat closed up on him.

"What about her, Jackson? What's going on?"

Lisa pulled the phone from his hand and he readily relinquished it. He heard her give her tearful account of what had happened, about the people coming to the house and Kaylee hiding her under the floorboards. Jackson focused on the road in front of him, the adrenaline starting to leave his system now that they were putting more and more distance from the ranch. He rubbed a hand across his face and found his fingertips came away from his face wet. Hastily, he wiped his face and glanced over at Lisa to see if she noticed. Thankfully, her head was turned away from him, the cell phone laying on the seat between them, silence filling the space between them.

* * *

**Author's Note: **I know the idea of Jackson crying is very far fetched but I figure if he thought of Kaylee as a sister then he would shed some tears for her loss. Anyway, don't forget to review! It feeds the plot bunnies and makes me very happy! Thank you!


	9. Pulled from Orbit

**Traveling Mercies**

**Chapter Nine: Pulled from Orbit**

_Like a comet pulled from orbit  
As it passes a sun  
Like a stream that meets a boulder  
Halfway through the wood  
Who can say if I've been changed for the better?  
But because I knew you  
I have been changed for good  
_

_-For Good, from Wicked_

Lisa wasn't sure what to do with herself. She had fallen asleep off and on for the next eight hours before Jackson pulled the truck into a roadside hotel in the middle of the desert. She waited in the truck until he came out of the office with the room key. She noticed it was a single key and part of her felt incensed but the other part felt relieved. He may be a cold, ruthless killer but he was her only protection for the time being. She watched as he by passed her and pulled her suitcase and his bag out of the back of the truck. She opened the passenger side door and slid out onto shaky legs. The desert air was dry and hot and a sudden sense of exhaustion hit her.

"Don't forget the phone," Jackson said as he passed by her. "There's nothing else important in there. Also, I sold the truck to the manager. The blue Buick is now ours."

Lisa wrinkled her nose at the old car parked next to the truck as she snatched up the cell phone and followed him the few doors down from the office. He opened the door and left it that way for her to close and lock. By the time her eyes adjusted to the darker interior of the room, her suitcase was sitting on the bed farthest from the door and Jackson was digging through his bag on the bed by the window. He tossed a gun onto the cheap bedspread and pulled a fistful of clothes out of the bag as well.

"What are you-" she started to ask when he cut across her.

"I'm taking a shower. We should have a decent enough lead on the Agency but just in case someone starts snooping," he pointed to the gun, "defend yourself."

"You're trusting me with a gun?" She couldn't believe what he was doing, the freedom he was giving her.

"Do your worst," he snapped before locking himself in the bathroom. A few seconds later the shower started running and Lisa sank down on the bed next to her suitcase, her eyes never leaving the gun. It would be so easy to pick it up and wait for him to step out of the bathroom. She could shoot him, kill him and drive off in the truck. His "Agency" just might call off the search for her and the hotel manager here didn't see her and possibly didn't realize Jackson had someone with him. She could finally be free of the whole disturbing, confusing mess. No more Jackson Rippner holding threats over her head.

But the same feelings that overcame her in New Orleans, reared their head again. The thought of seeing those blue eyes devoid of life and fire left her disturbed on a very deep level. Knowing that he would no longer be around her, finding her and intruding quietly on private moments caused her breath to hitch in her throat. He had watched her for eight weeks before the flight and formed an attachment to her but she had to be truthful to herself now. She had formed her own attachment to him. She didn't understand it but she was certain he didn't understand it either. Maybe it was one of the those things in life that you weren't suppose to comprehend. Like the loss of her brother…and Kaylee.

The door to the bathroom opened, the scent of soap and steam pouring out into the room. Jackson came out dressed in a fresh pair of jeans and a t-shirt. His hair was wet and Lisa noticed, with some odd interest, that the dark strands had a curl to them as opposed to hanging straight. She hadn't realized his hair had grown since the flight. But why shouldn't it? He was human, just like her, and it was a fact that she had overlooked until recently.

"I'm surprised you're still here," he said, pushing his bag onto the floor and laid down on the bed. "Figured you would have run by now."

Lisa tried to keep her cool. "Why is that?"

He gazed at her with those cool eyes before grabbing the TV remote and turning on a news channel. Lisa let out a startled gasp at the announcement that was already hours old.

"_Authorities are still investigating the so called 'hunting accident' that ended with the Deputy Director of Homeland Security, Charles Keefe's death. His wife and children are being kept out of the public eye and are requesting their privacy during this tragedy." _

"You killed Keefe."

Jackson laughed. "He was in upstate New York, Leese. When would I have had time to do that? Besides, you honestly think I would be running for my life from the Agency if I had managed to kill the man?"

All understanding and empathy she was feeling for Jackson completely left her. "So you're sorry you didn't kill him first."

He turned the television off and tossed the remote back to the table that was between the two beds. "I had nothing personal against Keefe. I didn't care if he lived or died. As far as I'm concerned, all Politian's are corrupt."

"Not all of them."

"Enough of them."

Lisa didn't want to argue politics with him right now so she just fell silent. After a few minutes of silence she turned to ask him what they were supposed to do next when she saw he had fallen sound asleep. At first, she thought he was faking just to get out of talking to her but his breathing was deep and even but with a slight wheeze that wasn't there when he was awake.

Not knowing what else to do, Lisa went to the closet and pulled the spare blanket down from the shelf. Hoping she wouldn't wake him, she draped the cheap cotton over Jackson, who was so far gone in sleep she could have lit firecrackers underneath the bed and have it not wake him. She took her suitcase into the bathroom and followed Jackson's example by taking a shower. She dressed in a pair of track pants and t-shirt before crawling into the other bed and falling asleep just as fast as Jackson had.

* * *

Jackson knew he was in a dream but couldn't get out it. He was back in the hospital, running down hall after white hall. He knew what the end result was going to be to this dream but that still didn't do anything to help him break out of the cycle. It always ended when he passed through the doors marked "Morgue." But this time, the dream deviated. When he opened the door to the morgue, he ran into someone with dark auburn hair and startling green eyes. Lisa. And the dream ended, dropping him back into a cheap south western hotel.

He looked out the window and saw night had fallen. The clock on the dresser blinked an obnoxious 11:30 and his stomach growled unexpectedly. If he was hungry that meant Lisa probably was as well. Speaking of the minx, he was surprised to find a blanket over him and not a bullet in the head. He hated to admit it but he was almost hoping she would try shooting him, which was why he left the gun out for her. He was getting overly weary of constantly looking over his shoulder and having his life on the line every minute of every day. But he doubted she had it in her to kill anyone but he knew people did crazy things when they were scared. And judging from the slow, steady breathing across the room, she was anything but fearful.

His empty stomach made itself known again and he stood up, stretching muscles that were tight from his mini-coma of sleep. There was a McDonalds across the street from the hotel and Jackson needed to call Declan anyway. Walking over to the least healthiest food chain in the world would give him a chance to do that without Lisa eavesdropping. Not that it mattered too much at this point. If she wanted to make a getaway, she would have done so by now. The same thing if she wanted to cause him harm. It left him confused and uneasily on edge, two emotions he didn't want to deal with at the moment. Kaylee…

Grabbing his cell phone from the dresser and pulling on his shoes, he headed out of the room, closing the door with a soft click. He had the keys to the car and the room so Lisa couldn't get very far while he was gone. Of course, if he found she wasn't there when he got back he wasn't going to waste energy looking for her. All he wanted right now was to get to another safe house and mourn. Again. He dialed Declan's number as soon as the door to the room was shut and the man picked up after the first ring.

"You alright?"

Jackson sighed. "Yeah. I guess Remy called you."

"Yeah, he did. He's already on a plane to head out there and take care of things."

"She loved that ranch." His throat felt like it was falling in on itself again.

"I know, son."

He could do without the endearment from Declan as his emotions were already too close to the surface. However, Declan was the closest thing he ever had to a father. The older man had come to stay at the Fisher farm for six months after the death of Jackson's parents. When everyone else treated him with fear and distance, Declan had treated him like an adult with respect and worth. Apparently he was quiet for too long as Declan continued.

"Remy said he'll mark her grave on the property so you can go back when things settle. Am I to assume you're headed my way?"

"If that's alright with you."

Declan emitted a short laugh. "Of course it's alright with me. I expected you sooner."

"I have a guest with me."

"Ah, I finally get to met the infamous Lisa."

"Does everybody in the Agency know about her?"

His mentor laughed heartily. "Of course they do! You two have grown to mythological proportion, especially by her coming to you this last time."

He placed his order with the tired looking college kid behind the McDonald's counter, a mix of dinner and breakfast food, before returning back to the conversation. "So what exactly are these myths?"

"Oh, some are saying you're going to be the next Bonnie and Clyde while others are saying you're just torturing her on this pilgrimage of running from the Agency."

"I'm not torturing her."

"I know that, Jackson. It's just amusing to hear all the various theories on what's going on." There was a pause. "So what are you doing with her?"

There was the million dollar question. "I don't know. She showed up on her own in Oklahoma."

"But why bring her with you on your way to Arizona?"

"I guess because Kaylee died protecting her. Besides, I couldn't just leave her there."

"Why not?"

"The Agency will kill her."

"Isn't that what you want? Her dead?"

Not anymore.

"I didn't think so," Declan responded and Jackson wasn't sure if he had voiced his thoughts or if Declan just knew him too well to know what his silence meant. "Jackson, you're getting over your head right now. With what happened to you on that flight and this attachment you have to Lisa, added to Kaylee's loss and the Agency breathing down your neck, you have too much on your plate. Get here as soon as you can. We'll sort everything out."

Jackson ended the call and sincerely hoped that Declan could help sort everything out. Food in hand, he made his way back to the room. The thought of traveling with Lisa again put his nerves on edge but there was an odd sense of detachment as well. If she wanted to go back to Miami and take her chances there, he wouldn't argue. But when he opened the door and saw Lisa sitting up in bed, eyes glued to an old black and white movie on the TV, there was that twinge in his chest again and he suddenly realized what it was: he cared. He wasn't sure what disturbed him more, the fact that he let himself get that attached to her or that it took him this long to identify the emotion. Maybe he would argue with her if she decided to go back to Miami.

"Leese?"

Her attention shifted from the television to him. "Yeah?"

"Let's go. We'll be able to get to Phoenix before lunchtime."

She nodded and stood up. "I'm sorry about Kaylee, Jackson."

"Me too."

There was a beat of silence. "Are you okay?"

Those three words brought him up short. He couldn't remember the last time someone had asked him that. Well, Sara maybe that had been five years ago. But now here was Lisa, staring at him expectantly with those tear glassed green eyes. It used to unnerve him completely when she cried, now he was getting used to it.

"Jackson?"

"No, I'm not okay." He tossed the bag of food onto the dresser. He found he wasn't hungry anymore and the smell of the greasy food was turning his stomach. Lisa was looking at him in slight surprise. "What? You expected me to lie and say I'm fine? Kaylee was practically my sister. Of course I'm not okay."

"I lost my older brother five years ago in a car accident."

"I know."

"Of course you do."

Jackson looked up from his bag to see Lisa's face set in angry lines that matched the sharp tone to her voice. "What?"

"Nothing in my life is private to you, is it? I have no secrets, do I?"

He groaned and closed the bag with an angry jerk. He hated these mood swings of hers. "What do you want from me, Lisa? What's done is done, there's no changing that."

Her chin lifted slightly and she crossed her arms. "Who is the blonde woman and baby in the picture at the bottom of the wooden box?"

Jackson tried to control the murderous rage that flooded through him. How _dare_ she look through his things. He carried many secrets with him, that much was true, but some of those were his own and only his. Sara and Joel were untouchable, even to Lisa Reisert. He threw the bag over his shoulder and ripped the door open.

"I'm leaving in five minutes with or without you."


	10. Confession

**Traveling Mercies**

**Chapter Ten: Confession**

_I have been wrong about you.  
Thought I was strong without you.  
For so long nothing could move me.  
For so long nothing could change me.  
_

It was a long five hours of silence in the car before they had to stop for gas. Grateful for the opportunity to stretch her legs and use the less than pleasant facilities, Lisa headed straight into the convenience store. The slight worry of Jackson leaving her there crossed her mind but she pushed it aside. If he wanted her stranded he would have done it at the hotel. That look of absolute fury on his face when she asked about the picture would stay with her probably as long as stabbing him would. As much as he had gleaned about her in those eight weeks of watching her, she still kept the scar a secret until that airplane bathroom. And despite as much as he thought he knew about her, she still had a few surprises up her sleeve. All she really wanted know was something personal about him, something that he told her himself. What she wanted was a sign of trust.

She decided to bring him a peace offering since he wasn't speaking to her yet. By the time she was walking out of the store with two cups of coffee, he was just getting behind the wheel. She slid into the passenger seat and tried not to show her discomfort at his questioning gaze. She held out the cup that was plain black in his direction. Once he took it, she reached into her pocket and pulled out the various creamers and sugar packets she took as well.

"I'm sorry," she stated simply. She watched his jaw tense and relax six times before he pinched the bridge of his nose. As much as she wanted to hear him apologize, it suddenly wasn't that important to her. His actions told her everything she needed to know. "So, how much farther do we have to go?"

He gave her a slightly startled expression. "Uh, about three more hours."

"Where are we going exactly?"

The in control Jackson was starting to come back as he started the car and pulled back on the road. "Scottsdale, Arizona. You get to meet the man who taught me everything I know about this business."

"Wonderful."

"It won't be that bad."

Lisa sipped her coffee and watched the highway fly by her as silence fell between them again, only without the tension. She should have known better than to snap at him like she had. Remembering what it had been like after Ben was killed, her emotions had been haywire so why wouldn't he be going through the same thing? Kaylee had told her that Jackson was like a brother to her. Even assassins had families, didn't they? Phoenix was still fifty miles away when he started speaking again.

"Her name was Sara."

* * *

He didn't know why he was telling Lisa about Sara. Maybe it was her apology with the coffee, or Kaylee's death was wearing on him and bringing down the walls he had so carefully built around Sara and Joel's memory. Perhaps he just needed to confess it to someone and Lisa was as good as anyone.

"We met on a job. A diplomat from Russia had stored some sensitive documents in this state of the art safe. Sara was suppose to be the best in the business. She was one of those who had a real job and was just hired by the Agency for certain cases. She was a locksmith in Philadelphia." Jackson smiled at the memory. "She had that million dollar safe open in ten seconds. It was love at first sight.

"I worked out of Philadelphia for a few months, met her family and we got married six months after the Russian job. A year and half later, Joel was born. Everything was perfect for three years."

Suddenly, he didn't want to talk anymore. He wanted the story to end right there but life didn't work that way. And even though he wasn't looking in Lisa's direction, he knew she was waiting for him to continue, which brought another set of problems to the surface. Well, they were already coming up on Phoenix. Once they reached Declan's, if Lisa had had enough of him and the circumstances, she could leave if she wanted to. He hadn't had a confidant in a very long time and wouldn't like to see her go but he would never voice that to her.

"They were coming back from State College, near Penn State. Her parents lived up there. I was finishing detail work on my next job or else I would have been in the car with them. Sometimes I wish I had been. Some college kid who had been drinking and smoking weed all night decided to run the red light at ninety miles an hour. He blew through one car, killing the guy instantly, before plowing into Sara's car. I got to the hospital fifteen minutes after she was declared dead. Joel was killed instantly. I buried them both five years ago."

And then he waited for Lisa to put the pieces together. It didn't take her long. He heard her gasp loudly, hand clamped over her mouth. He started nursing his doubts about telling her in the stunning silence that followed. But finally, twenty minutes from Declan's, she spoke.

"I asked the police officers if I could speak with you that night, when my Mom, Dad and I had to identify my brother's body." She sniffed loudly. "I wanted to tell you I was sorry you had lost your wife and child."

"They gave me the message."

"They never told me your name, though. Even when the paper's printed the story, no names were given."

Jackson's grip on the steering wheel tightened. "Agency couldn't afford it. Even though it wasn't part of a job or a vendetta, they just couldn't risk it. I hadn't even realized the connection until I found that box of men's clothing in your storage closet. I did research on the computer all night looking for Benjamin Reisert's who passed away in the last thirty years. I couldn't believe it when I found the obituary."

"Now I understand," she said solemnly.

"Understand what?"

"The connection between us."

He wanted to deny that there was anything between them but he couldn't. It frightened him that she had, most likely, hit the nail on the head with her diagnosis. Maybe it wasn't the eight weeks of surveillance that he had done that forged the link between them but the death of their loved ones that night. What were the chances, really? He was never one to put much stock in fate and everything happens for a reason mentality but how could he argue with that thought process with the sister of the other victim of the car crash that took his wife and child five years ago was sitting next to him? He turned on Declan's street and pulled up to the modest suburban house.

"Jackson, I-"

"We're here."

And they promptly ceased their conversation that had played out more as a confession for the both of them.

* * *

"What the hell are you parking in my driveway?"

Despite the serious tone that their conversation had ended on, Lisa couldn't help but smile at the man who walked out of the adobe house to greet them. It was not a huge, sprawling mansion like she expected to see considering it housed Jackson's mentor. Apparently the man went for quality instead of quantity. The yard was landscaped in the typical stone, cacti but an orange tree on the fringe of the property line. Lisa heard her name and turned her attention to the two men standing in the driveway.

"Lisa Reisert," he extended a broad hand, "Declan O'Malley. It's a pleasure to met you, finally."

She accepted the handshake and smiled politely back. He looked slightly older than her father with salt and pepper hair and grey eyes. He wasn't tall like Remy but he was just as thin. She was struck with just how kind he looked and a sudden wave of homesickness struck her. Tears burned the back of her eyes but she was tired of crying. She knew she was stronger than this but apparently Declan saw her efforts and patted her hand, which didn't exactly strengthen her efforts of control.

"Jackson, pop the trunk of this piece of crap so we can get your stuff out and this thing towed," Declan said, moving away from Lisa.

She noticed Jackson giving her a look and she mouthed "sorry" to him but he waved it off dismissively before he pulled the latch for the trunk. Lisa took a deep breath and tried to get in touch with the professional inside of her before trying to retrieve her suitcase. Declan, however, refused to relinquish it to her and instead put a fatherly arm around her shoulders.

"You've been stuck in car with Jackson for eighteen hours. Trust me, you shouldn't have to carry any more baggage."

Lisa tried to smile at the joke but just after what Jackson had told her about Sara and Joel, she couldn't bring herself to even fake one.

"Thanks, Dec," Jackson responded with the same light tone.

"You bet."

Lisa stepped into the cool house, feeling relief from the Arizona dry heat. The inside of the house looked like it was used for magazine shoots: all antique pieces of furniture mixed with the modern day luxuries in a seamless fashion. If this all blew over and she returned to her job at the Lux, she was hiring his interior decorator.

"Are you two hungry or do you just want to sleep?"

Lisa didn't even have to look at Jackson to know what he would say. He hadn't touched the food he brought back from McDonald's and the only thing she saw him drink was the coffee she handed him. She was surprised he hadn't passed out by now. After the decision had been made to eat first, rest second, she followed the men into the kitchen that was just as beautiful as the rest of the house. But nothing was as welcome as the sight of food on the table.

Declan was looking very pleased with himself. "We have the best little Greek restaurant right around the corner."

* * *

Jackson finally took a deep breath and released it. It was the first breath he had taken in relative peace since the red eye flight with Lisa. After eating, he slept for a few hours and now he sat outside on the back porch of Declan's home, beer in hand and finally feeling safe. Of course, there was no way to tell how long he would have but he would enjoy it while it lasted.

The sliding glass door behind him opened and he didn't have to look to see who it was. Declan was out having dinner with a potential client which meant his intruder could only be Lisa. Of course, he was starting to think of her less and less as a burden and more as a…what? Acquaintance? Friend? He bit back a groan. He hated what she was doing to him, making him talk and _feel_.

"Do you mind?"

He looked up to see her standing behind the chair next to him and shook his head. She was dressed in linen pants and an oversized shirt, typical Florida clothing. She looked rested and he could smell her shampoo and shower gel she used. Jasmine. She sat down and he saw she had a glass a wine with her. Good, maybe she could relax too.

"Did I hear Declan right when he said Remy was coming?"

Jackson expected to be annoyed at the break in silence but it never came. "Yeah. He'll be here tomorrow evening."

"Does he know about…"

"Kaylee?"

Lisa nodded.

"Yeah, he knows. He's coming from Oklahoma. He, uh, took care of things at the ranch."

"What did he do…with her?"

It could have been his relaxed state of mind or the fact that Lisa now knew one his many well kept secrets, or he was just plain tired of always hiding behind one mask or another. Regardless, he sat up in the chair and started talking again.

"There's a stream that runs through the property of the ranch. At a certain bend, there's this big crab apple tree. She used to spend a lot of time under that tree, it was her hiding place. I think I was the only one who knew about it." He cleared his throat. "Anyway, Remy buried her under the tree."

"Did he know her?"

He was hoping she wasn't going to ask that question. "Yeah, he knew her. He was very sweet on her. But she didn't want to leave the ranch and he couldn't leave the hotel so nothing ever came of it." Well, maybe it was good to get that in open so she would know Remy's visit wasn't going to be a pleasant one. Jackson was already thinking about what he was going to say to the man when he got there. So many people said useless things to him after Sara and Joel died, he knew what meant something and what didn't.

"Do you ever get used to it?"

Jackson thought he had missed her side of the conversation. "Get used to what?"

"All the people dying." She turned and looked at him with bright green eyes. Even in the dark he could tell the color. "Does it ever get easier?"

He could lie, which he normally never did, and say yes, you get used to it. But you never do. Each call, each announcement causes the same amount of shock and pain. You learned quick in this business to trust no one but once you forged your network, they became closer than family. "No," he finally answered.

"Do you feel the same way for the people that," she paused, searching for the right words. "That are part of your job?"

_That was a nice way of putting it, Leese._ "Of course not. Those people we don't know. We can distance ourselves from them and usually there's a reason someone wants them dead. Those reasons that are given do nothing to stoke a sense of empathy with the target anyway. When you loose someone you know in this business, it's like losing a family member. They can't be replaced."

Lisa settled back in her chair and stared blankly in front of her. Jackson wasn't sure if he was suppose to keep up the conversation or not, so he just followed her example and went back to his beer. The sounds of crickets and gecko's only added to the relaxing atmosphere and he found himself starting to drift off to sleep again.

"Jackson?"

"Hm?" When she didn't say anything, he opened his eyes and looked at her expectantly. She opened and closed her mouth a couple times, trying to screw up the courage to ask her question. "You look like a fish. Spit it out, Leese."

She laughed slightly but regained her seriousness quickly. "Is that why you're not interested in killing me? Because you've gotten to know me?"

He wondered how he should answer that question. If she knew for a fact that he didn't want to cause her harm and injury, well, he knew what a handful she could be when their ideas clashed. But he told her never lies because it doesn't serve his purpose. Keeping her afraid of him would definite serve his purpose. But when he looked over at her, her face open and wanting reassurance that he wasn't the monster she thought he was, only the truth came out in one simple word.

"Yes."

_Now I feel myself surrender  
Each time I see your face.  
I am captured by your beauty,  
Your unassuming grace.  
And I feel my heart is turning,  
Falling into place.  
I can't hide it  
Now hear my confession._

_-My Confession, by Josh Groban  
_


	11. A New Dance

**Author's Note: **Thank you so much for all the wonderful reviews! You guys really help my inspiration! Please, keep reviewing!

**Traveling Mercies**

**Chapter Eleven: A New Dance**

Lisa tried her best to blend into the background of Declan's house. She had greeted a very different Remy at the door when he first arrived. No longer full of bounce, sharp wit and humor, he look tired and worn. She had hugged him, the first time she willingly initiated contact like that with a man other than her father since the rape, but he only half returned it. Jackson greeted him with a nod and the two moved off into another part of the house.

Grief was a private affair and it seemed to permeate the air of the house with it's heaviness. She read on the balcony off of her room, fell asleep for a little while and then kept on reading. She listened for the sound of silence coming from the kitchen before slipping downstairs to get something to eat. She spent almost three days like this before Declan found her in the kitchen late at night getting an apple.

"You're a hard lady to find," he teased but she noticed his eyes were too sad.

"I didn't want to intrude."

He just nodded. "I have a couple things for you. Here's a cell phone," he placed a slim pink cell phone on the granite counter. "Jackson said you're close to your Dad and might want to talk to him."

Lisa picked up the cell phone with trembling fingers. She would love to talk to her Dad right now but she wasn't sure if it was the smart thing to do. "If I call him, can they trace where I am?"

Declan gave her a look that was somewhere between shock and admiration. "No, not on that phone."

Maybe she would call him then.

"And here," Declan laid a laminated card down on the counter next to a pair of Volvo keys. "This is a season pass to the botanical gardens and the keys to my car. It'll get you out of the house for a day. I figure you've had enough of us men caught up in our own business."

"Thank you." It didn't seem strong enough of a statement for what she felt at the moment so she tried to convey her appreciation through her eyes. But Declan wasn't looking at her. His focus was past her, over her shoulder. She turned around, her eyes immediately landing on what he was looking at: a picture of Kaylee. It looked like it had been professionally done, she was dressed much the same way she had been when Lisa met her at the airport, leaning against a tree with the sunlight glittering through the branches. The person taking the photo must have been lying on the ground because her eyes were looking down at them.

"Did you know Kaylee well?" Lisa asked him. Apparently he did to have a picture of her in his kitchen.

"As well as I could. Her mother wasn't very fond of me." He laughed shortly. "Just that once. But that didn't stop Kaylee from calling me. And then I was assigned to train Jackson who was living on the Fisher ranch so I tried my best to make up for lost time with Kaylee and lack of discipline with Jackson." He was quiet for a moment and Lisa could see the memories that were playing in front of his eyes. "The son I never I had and the daughter I was never allowed to know." Suddenly, his eyes refocused on her. "Call your Dad, Lisa. Let him know you're alright."

And she did, the next day when she took Declan's black Volvo to the Botanical Gardens. His season pass got her through the welcome gate with a smile and wave from the person in the booth. She wandered aimlessly, only half seeing the plant life around her. Her mind was processing the situation, trying to organize all her encounters with Jackson these last few days. She was starting to notice the cracks in the persona he hid behind. For the longest time she tried to discern who the real Jackson Rippner was, the guy she met in line and later at the Tex Mex or the ruthless "manager" that tormented her on the plane? Then, he came for her in Miami.

That was when she saw some of his confidence slip, he was unsure despite his efforts to present himself as he had on the plane. He still had frightened her but the razor blade anger and threats were gone. Then the car ride from Oklahoma had turned everything on it's head. His confession about his wife and child being killed in the same car accident that took her brother shifted something between them. She really only had one conversation with him after that, where he admitted to not wanting to kill her because he had gotten to know her. And now that she was getting to know him, the desire to fight him, run and fear him was slipping away. The surprising realization that came to her as she passed by saguaros and Joshua trees was Jackson wasn't the guy she met at the Tex Mex, her seat mate on the plane or some odd hybrid of the two.

He was just like her. Stuck in a life that forced him to play a character that didn't fit in his own skin. The only difference was his life consisted of lies, violence and death while hers was made of false smiles, forced manners and placations of petty people. She had lost her brother at too young an age to someone's bad judgment, just as Jackson had lost his family due to the same person's stupidity. They both had scars left on them by life's cruelty and judging from his shifting attitude towards her, they were both trying to figure out who they really were. She couldn't leave him now just as he couldn't leave her in Oklahoma or that hotel in the desert. Even though she didn't understand it, she saw him for who he was and he saw her for who she really was. Solid in her decision, she sat down on a bench in the empty herb garden and called her father.

"Hello?"

Lisa swallowed convulsively. He sounded so tired even just speaking that one word. "D-Dad?"

"Lisa." Her name came out in a simultaneous sigh. "Where are you honey? Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, Dad," She fisted her free hand to keep it from trembling. "I'm out west. I just wanted to call you so you would know I was alright."

"I'll come get you, Leese, just tell me where."

"No, Dad, really, I'm fine." This was getting harder than she anticipated.

"That Rippner guy doesn't have a hold on you, does he Leese?"

Lisa closed her eyes. He did have a hold on her but not in the way her Dad was thinking. "No, Dad, he doesn't. Look, I'll keep in touch with you when I can, just don't worry about me."

"Leese, you sure you're alright?"

Lisa slowly closed the phone, disconnecting the call, and broke down in tears. She missed the security of her routine, the practiced assurances she gave her father but she longed for getting to know the person that was trapped in those same routines. She wanted to tell her father she was fine and have him accept it as the truth. She wanted trust.

Someone approached the bench where she was sitting and sobbing but she didn't look at them. She felt the boards shift as they sat down next to her. Why couldn't they just leave her alone, let her grieve for the lives lost, including her own? She felt a tentative hand rest on her shoulder blade and, surprisingly, she recognized it immediately. Sweeping the hair back from her face, she turned to look at Jackson. She noticed his eyes were slightly bloodshot, the blue washed out till it was almost transparent. There was no indifference to be found in his expression and her heart hitched at the sight of seeing him, truly seeing _him, _for the first time.

"It's going to be okay, Leese."

That brought on another onslaught of tears and soon found herself crying into the space between his shoulder and neck. He was trying to soothe her, she realized as she felt his arms come around her. She didn't know how to tell him that these weren't tears of despondence, grief or anger.

They were tears of relief.

* * *

Jackson and Declan found the black Volvo parked in the Botanical garden parking lot. They had just dropped Remy off at the Phoenix airport and Declan told Jackson where Lisa had gone for the day. Jackson didn't believe it when he actually saw the car parked there. He was almost certain that she would have made a run for it. Well, maybe he only feared she would make a run for it and he felt relief at seeing the car parked there.

"You want me to wait until you find her?"

"No," Jackson shook his head. "I'll be fine." He didn't want to see if Declan wanted to continue the conversation. He justified his quick departure to Declan wanting to be by himself for a little while but he knew deep down, he just wanted reassurance that Lisa hadn't bolted on him. He had never been to the gardens, despite living in Scottsdale for a short time, and judging from the map, it could take him hours to find Lisa. The best thing he could do was just wander and hope fate was still causing them to cross each other's paths.

He was coming up on the herb garden when he overheard a middle aged couple whispering to themselves.

"Do you think we should tell someone?" the woman was saying.

The man looked over his shoulder. "We can swing back later and see if she's still there. Everyone has a bad day."

Jackson picked up the pace, walking in the direction that the couple seemed to be leaving. Thankfully there didn't seem to be very many tourist in that section of the garden and Lisa was easy to find. She was the only one sitting on a bench, crying. He spent so much on the plane ignoring her tears and pushing forward with "the plan," he never really just accepted that as being part of who she was, a woman who cried. A lot. He smiled slightly at just how far apart on the spectrum they were. She was all emotion and he was all logic. Well, maybe he wasn't all logic anymore, Lisa was making sure of that and he didn't quite know how to feel about it.

She didn't look up or acknowledge him at all as he sat down on the bench next to her. He wasn't exactly sure what to do for her and he knew he was venturing into dangerous territory when he laid a hand on her back. But she didn't retaliate in any way, except by sitting up, flipping the hair away from her flushed face and staring at him with those green eyes. There was something different about her, the way she was looking at him. She looked…confident. No deceit, scheming or plans to one up him. Only determination to survive through this. For the first time in years, he felt a flutter of hope.

"It's going to be okay, Leese." It wasn't a promise or assurance, it was merely a statement. It really was going to be okay, despite the fact that she was now sobbing into his shoulder. _They_ were going to be okay. Instinct kicked in and he wrapped his arms around her, trying to soothe her before someone called security on them. He did see the couple who's conversation he eavesdropped on pass by again and he gave them a slight smile and nod, which they returned before moving on. Lisa took a couple deep breaths before detaching herself from him and sat up on her own. He didn't like the way his body reacted to the few inches that now separated them, how he found himself wanting to close the gap again.

"I called my Dad."

That snapped him back to reality. "Really?"

She nodded and swiped at her eyes. "Declan gave me a phone and told me to call him."

He had told Declan to do that but he secretly hoped Lisa wouldn't take him up on that offer. He should have known better. "And?"

She shrugged. "I told him I was alright, not to worry and I would try to keep in touch when I could. I told him I was out west and that was it." She laughed slightly. "He kept asking if I was alright, just like he always did but…"

"But?"

"I just couldn't take hearing it anymore." She looked at him guiltily. "I hung on up him."

That was a shock. Lisa hanging up on dear old Dad. She had changed much more than he had given her credit for. "There's no room for worry when you play this game."

"What game is that?"

"Survival." Though he had the feeling there was a new game starting between them at the moment, a new kind of dance they would be engaging in. He still couldn't tell if this was a good thing or a bad one. He supposed he was about to find out. The sun was starting to set and the gardens were going to close soon. He noticed Lisa was rubbing her bare arms to ward off the chill that always came at nightfall in the desert. He unbuttoned the short sleeved shirt he was wearing, leaving him in just a T-shirt and jeans and handed it to her. She took it shyly and slipped it on. "You ready to go home?"

She nodded and they slowly made their way back to the black Volvo.

* * *

Declan was up early the next morning, sipping his coffee and getting caught up on emails and news before Jackson and Lisa joined him for the day. He had promised Lisa he would take her shopping as she was going to be in need of clothes. Very warm clothes. She had no idea where they were headed next but he and Jackson had agreed Maine was going to have to be the next stop for them. He hoped for their sake that they would find more than just a week's peace there.

The two of them intrigued him to no end. He thought for certain that when Sara died, Jackson had completely closed himself off from the human race for good. He watched him go from being detail oriented and calculating to downright vicious and cruel. He had feared for his protégé on more than one occasion. But slowly Jackson seemed to gain back his touch with humanity, little by little. He was surprised to find the Jackson he knew making appearances more and more frequently whenever Lisa was present.

Lisa. He could only imagine what Jackson put her through on that red eye flight. Preservation had always been Jackson's strongest emotion and having a mark that fought him tooth and nail the way she apparently had could have only made matters worse for her. But here she was, willingly from the looks of it. Giving her the phone and keys to his car had gone against every bone in his body but Jackson urged him to go ahead with the test. To say he was surprised to see the both of them come back that evening was an understatement.

He heard something slide through the mail slot of his front door. Six a.m. was definitely too early for the mail. Going into the kitchen, he opened one of the drawers and pulled out a gun. Slipping the safety off, he slowly made his way into the foyer. A manila envelope was laying in front of the door on the terracotta tile. He slid the safety back on and retrieved the envelope. Walking back into the kitchen, he opened it and pulled out a set of eight by ten photographs. They were all of Jackson and Lisa in the botanical gardens yesterday. Most were of them sitting on a bench and looking quite cozy with a couple of them walking, most likely back to the car due to the decrease in the lighting. The last one was of them in the car together…his car. Not only did the Agency know they were here, but they now knew that he was harboring them. The shrill sound of the phone ringing startled him out of his shock. On the third ring he had regained his composure enough to pick it up.

"Yes."

"What are you playing at, Declan?"

Declan ground his teeth together. It was Hunter, one of the top guns who was on the Panel. "I'm not sure I know what you mean."

"Of course you do. You received my package, yes?"

"Yes, I did. Those kids sure are photogenic, aren't they?"

"The only reason we haven't leveled your home yet is due to your position in the Agency and out of respect for the loss of your daughter. If Rippner and Reisert aren't out of Scottsdale by tonight, you're going down with them."

"Thank you for the consideration, Hunter. It is greatly appreciated." Declan hung up the phone and started making other calls. Looks like Jackson and Lisa were headed to Maine sooner than expected.


	12. Flight

**Author's Note: **Sorry for the delay in updates...I've had a lot going on and just trying to get everything done and keeping everyone happy. :-) I'm really trying to finish this story before November 1st because I'll be taking part in National Novel Writing Month in an attempt to write an original story of 50,000 words before November 30th! I'll be posting the story over on if you're interested. Anyway, on with the show...

**Traveling Mercies**

**Chapter Twelve: Flight**

Jackson couldn't sleep that night, though he must have slept somewhat because he dreamed. Perhaps it was due to the shift in his feelings towards Lisa or Declan's suggestion that the next place he go to was the cabin in Maine. Either way, the one dream that stuck with him was the one of Sara and Lisa sitting in Joel's room at the cabin. He could hear the two women chatting and when he pushed the door to the room open, he saw Joel sitting happily on Lisa's lap. When he blinked, he was staring at the early morning light that had slipped through the blinds.

He looked at his watch and saw it was almost six thirty in the morning. Figuring Declan would be up and around by now, Jackson pulled himself out of bed, showered and headed down to the kitchen. Despite the unsettling dream, he was actually looking forward to today. The grieving process for Kaylee was officially over, though the grief itself was still being dealt with, and Lisa was about to get a shopping spree.

In the eight weeks of surveillance that he did, he saw her go to the mall twice. He was hoping it was due to her hectic schedule and not because she hated shopping. They were going to need warmer clothes anyway. He was hoping to get to the cabin around Thanksgiving, which gave them almost five months of time to survive. They're chances of being snowed in for a couple months was a certainty. It was too hard to cover tracks in snow so anyone spying on them could be found quickly. But when Jackson reached the kitchen, he realized their relaxing day had been canceled. Glossy photos were spread out on the kitchen table of him and Lisa at the Gardens yesterday. Declan was hanging up the phone when he noticed Jackson standing there.

"We have some problems."

Jackson nodded. "So I see."

"Hunter called this morning. Said you and Lisa have till this evening to leave the Phoenix area."

"How generous of him. What do you think?"

"I have more trustworthy friends on the Panel that I spoke with this morning. They will keep their word and give you a head start. I can tell you this, the Panel wants nothing more to do with you and Lisa. They're ready to move on and let you blend back into society. However, there's a group of upstarts that want to move up the Agency ladder. Taking out a top manager would do just that."

"Not so 'top' anymore."

"I wouldn't say that. Half the panel is willing to overlook the Keefe screw up however, I don't think you have it in you to meet their expectations for your reinstatement."

Jackson felt hurt at his mentor's words and apparently he picked up on that.

"They're willing to accept you back if you kill Lisa for them. But," Declan gave him a sly smile, "like I said, I don't think you have it in you anymore."

"Does that disappoint you?"

"Of course not. I lost more than one night's sleep over your state of mind after Sara and Joel died. You don't know how relieved I am to see you finally opening up to someone, even if it is a mark."

Jackson looked away. "I'm not opening up to anyone." Unfortunately, his gaze fell on a picture of him holding Lisa on the bench in the herb garden. Damn it. "So what do we need to do?"

"I would suggest just run. Go up through California and into Canada. We have less people in Canada which means you'll go unnoticed for longer. Also, you can make your way east through Canada towards Maine."

"We're going to need passports."

Declan nodded. "I have some extra, don't worry. You can use the other car in the garage, dump it in California and get a new one. I'll give you some cash too. They're most likely thinking that I'm going to fly you out on my plane judging from the fact that I can't reach my pilot."

All thoughts of an enjoyable day made a quick departure from Jackson's brain. "I didn't mean to bring this all down on top of your head." To his surprise, Declan laughed.

"You're not that powerful, Jackson. Now, I still have some calls to make so why don't you go break the news to Lisa about your early departure so she can get ready."

* * *

Lisa was dreaming and praying she didn't wake up. She hadn't had a dream like this and actually enjoyed it since before that day in the parking lot. A man was kissing her and not only was she letting him, she was relishing it. The closeness of him, a man who wasn't out to hurt her, his hands on her face, in her hair. Instead of recoiling from him, she wanted more, more touches, exploration…more _him. _Come to think of it, she didn't know who he was with his strong hands and gentle lips. Disentangling herself from him, she pulled back only enough to see his face. Once she saw those blue eyes, shock stilled her roaming hands.

"Jackson?"

He lowered his head, his lips brushing her ear. "Leese…"

She tried to wake up, twisting and turning, but all she could hear was him saying her name in that hoarse, raspy voice thick with emotion.

"Leese!"

Her eyes snapped open, her mind jolted back to reality with so much force her head hurt. Her heart was still racing and she could feel the heat in her face that came with a dream of that nature. Was that all it took for her, to have one day where he treated her kindly? She was seriously going to have to get a hold of herself. How in the world could she look Jackson in the eye today after having _that_ kind of dream about him?

"Lisa?"

Lisa squeezed her eyes shut. _Oh, please God, don't let me open my eyes and see who I think I hear. _Slowly she opened her eyes and realized God had chosen not to listen her at that moment. Jackson was standing by her bed, a smirk that wasn't quite hiding the concern in his eyes. Those blue, blue eyes. She felt her face heat up even more, if that were possible.

"I couldn't tell if that was a nightmare or a-"

"It was." She blurted out. "It was a nightmare." Lisa pulled the sheet up to her chin as she sat up in bed. True, she was a t-shirt and cotton capris but the fact that he was standing in her bedroom unnerved her. "And the reason for this intrusion is?"

He regarded her for a moment with a slightly confused look. "You didn't wake up when I knocked so I had to come in. Don't get all girly about it."

She rolled her eyes. "And the importance of my waking up?"

Seriousness took over his face. "We need to get out of here ASAP. So do whatever you need to and meet me downstairs." And he left, shutting the door behind him. Lisa waited until she heard his footsteps on the stairs before getting out of bed. Not being sure just how dire the situation was, she got dressed, packed everything up after her morning routine and went down to the kitchen. She set her suitcase next to Jackson's bag before facing the two men who had their heads together over papers on the counter.

"What's going on?" she asked when neither one acknowledged her presence.

"We've worn out our welcome," Jackson replied, his eyes never leaving a map he was studying.

Declan gave her a small smile. "I don't think you've worn out your welcome but others in the Agency believe you have."

"Where are we going?"

"Well," Declan answered while Jackson pulled out another map and focused on it, "I told smart ass here to go up through California into Canada but he seems to think differently."

She was about to ask why the difference of opinions when the phone rang shrilly. Declan picked it up immediately and judging from the look of relief on his face, it was good news.

"Vicky, how are you?"

The name must have meant something because it drew Jackson's attention. Declan nodded a lot and was confirming whatever Vicky was saying. Finally, he said, "Can you get them to Vancouver? Have Nick take them in for a little?"

Jackson nodded slightly and started folding up the maps. Declan gave a few more "uh huh's" before hanging up the phone. He took a deep breath and surprisingly, his gaze settled on Lisa.

"Vicky is part of the Panel and-"

Lisa interrupted. "I don't know what the 'panel' is."

Declan gave Jackson a surprised a look. "You didn't explain the chain of command to her?"

Jackson shrugged. "Why would I?"

"Anyway," Declan continued, "the Panel is a group of seven people who run the Agency. Underneath them are directors, then managers and finally the team members. Jackson can explain further at another time. Vicky is on the Panel and has been Jackson's strongest supporter since this mess began. She just offered the use of her private jet to get you to Vancouver. She said it's primed and ready to go."

"Can we trust her?" It was stupid question, Lisa knew that, but felt she had to ask anyway.

"Of course we can," Jackson snapped as he brushed past her and out of the room. She turned to Declan for more of an explanation.

"Vicky is Sara's sister. Nick is her brother. He's the west coast director of Canada. His territory also includes Alaska. He can keep you hidden for a while, hopefully until Thanksgiving. That is…"

Lisa gave him a curious look. "What?"

"Vicky said that she's convinced the Panel to allow you to return to Miami, no questions asked. You can return your job, your home and your family and have no fear of seeing anyone from the Agency again. The choice is yours but this is the final offer. You can take it and return to your life or you can run for the rest of it."

* * *

Jackson knew when Declan pulled up to the private hanger what the second plane was there for: to take Lisa back to Miami. He wondered if she would take the Agency up on their offer. No doubt it was going to be her last chance to return to her life as she knew it. He couldn't figure out how he felt about her leaving or staying. Part of him would miss her company, especially now that there was thin layer of trust being forged between them. He would miss that. He would miss her.

He was surprised to see Vicky standing there, waiting for them. She looked like Sara but not enough to cause any painful reaction. In fact, she was a very welcome sight. Vicky was a tall woman with willowy grace and long limbs. Her code name going through the Agency had been "Marionette" due to her fast talk and string pulling. She had a way of asking for anything and usually getting it. If anyone could get them out of the country safely, it was Vicky. She didn't say anything to him when he got out of the car, she just hugged him in greeting.

"I haven't seen you lately," she stated simply when she released him.

"I've been busy."

She gave him a "yeah, I know" look that did remind him of Sara. He turned away from her so he wouldn't have to look at her face only to come nose to nose with Lisa. Literally from bad to worse. Her eyes dropped down and he followed them to see she was holding his bag out towards him. He took it with a slight nod of thanks that she most likely missed since she was staring at the ground. It was just as he thought…she was going back to Miami. Well, he wasn't one for long good-byes. He gave Vicky a one armed hug as he passed by her.

"Nick is really looking forward to seeing you, Jackson," Vicky called after him.

He gave Declan a hug as well. He wasn't sure what the punishment was going to be for helping him. He hoped Declan's high rank would protect him and having Vicky on his side as well would help. God knew he didn't want to lose any more loved ones because of this screw up. He couldn't bear to look Lisa. It would be better if he got her mad at their parting. It would be easier for her to get over the whole experience if she continued to see him as a cold, calculating murderer instead of a shoulder to cry on. He got on the small jet that was already facing north on the private runway, dumped his bag on one of the empty seats before falling into the seat by the window.

Covering his face with his hand he successfully blocked his view of the people still standing around Declan's Volvo. All he wanted was some peace and quiet at the moment to shuffle through thoughts and shove feelings deep down again. He needed to regain control of this situation and figure some way out of it. He heard some rustle of movement next to him and kept his eyes closed. He wasn't up for a pep talk from the pilot or a break down of how long the flight was going to take. Hopefully whoever it was would take the hint and leave. But when he heard the jet door shut and seal and the plane jerked forward down the runway, there was still a presence seated next to him. Slowly, he straightened up in his seat and glanced over.

Lisa was sitting there, straight backed and gripping the plush armrest that separated them. He couldn't believe it. She willingly gave up a second chance at what passed for her life and chose to run with him. The skeptic in him surfaced and he started to wonder why she made that decision. What was she hoping for? Protection? Maybe she was suffering from that mental illness, Stockholm Syndrome. No, if that were the case she would be confessing her undying love for him instead of staring straight ahead in stony silence.

"This isn't the plane that's going to Miami." He knew she knew that but he couldn't come up with anything better to say.

She swallowed once and cleared her throat. "I know that."

"Why?"

The jet's engines kicked on and Jackson watched, once again, Lisa's fear escalating as the plane gained speed and distance from the ground. She really did hate flying, not that he was that fond of it either. His focus shifted from her pinched face to the hand that was gripping the armrest, her knuckles white from the effort. He remembered watching that elegant hand do the same thing on that red eye flight but stayed his sympathy for the sake of the job. This time, there was no job, no phone calls that needed to be made. Now was different and he did what he wanted to do back on that first flight: he pried her fingers away from the armrest and laced his fingers through hers.

Lisa released a slow breath and looked over at him gratefully. "Thank you."

"Your welcome."

She glanced out the window before her eyes resettled on his face. "You wouldn't be running if it wasn't for me. If I had made that phone call you would have finished the job."

"But the Keefe's would have been dead. You were actually brave enough to fight for them."

She seemed to struggle with herself for a moment. "But Keefe is dead."

Jackson nodded. "True, but his wife and two kids are still alive. Something that wouldn't have happened if I completed the job I was paid to do."

She looked at him as if she were studying him and he tried not to shift under her gaze. "You didn't want to kill his family, did you? The way you reacted when I asked you on that flight, for the first time I saw you uncomfortable."

It was true. He had turned down many jobs where killing children was involved but there were some people you just didn't say no to and unfortunately those who hired the Agency to dispose of Keefe where such people. "Killing children is never necessary."

"Is it because of Joel?"

He broke eye contact with her, looking everywhere but at her. It was too intimate, too personal. He didn't want to talk about this anymore. He tried to pull his hand back but Lisa's grip tightened, refusing to release him, physically and emotionally.

"Jackson."

He clenched his jaw to keep words from slipping out. How had she completely turned the tables on him? All he asked was why she had chosen to come with him instead of going home. Shouldn't she be the one in the hot seat?

"Jackson?"

His eyes rested on his reflection in the plane window. He didn't remember looking so haggard and worn. He looked how he was feeling inside, washed out, weary and just plain tired. He closed his eyes because he couldn't find the strength to turn his head from the window and he lowered his head in emotional defeat. He couldn't keep up the cool façade that had brought him this far. It took too much energy and Lisa could see through it by now. Her hand gave his a gentle squeeze and he cleared his throat.

"I'm not that bad of a person." He wasn't sure if she had even heard him. Part of him hoped she hadn't but he felt the tension release in her grip as she relaxed.

"And that's why I came with you."


	13. Dream Catcher

**Author's Note: **So sorry for the delay with updating! I actually wrote two other openings to this chapter before getting two pages into it and realizing it just wasn't right. So after weeding through all the crap I wrote these last couple days, this is the finally product and I must say, I am pleased. Thank you for your patience! Thank you for your reviews!

**Traveling Mercies**

**Chapter Thirteen: Dream Catcher**

Somewhere between Vancouver, British Columbia and Washburn, Maine, something unexpected happened: Lisa stopped being afraid. The two month stay in Vancouver with the fun loving, trendsetting Nick had been oddly refreshing and relaxing. She was starting to see more and more of the real Jackson, that odd hybrid of the guy at Tex Mex and some man she didn't know at all. No longer given to fits of rage and angry outbursts as he had been on the flight and the trip to New Orleans, she was finding his sense of humor was sarcastic, his favorite food was Thai and his taste in music tended to list towards British bands.

They had decided to drive from British Columbia to Maine and were able to take their time crossing through Canada. Without the threat of the Agency breathing down their necks, they were starting to enjoy themselves. Even her father was noticing the change when she called him once a week, every Sunday night. Following a comment he had made about being relieved to hear her happy for a change, she decided to tell him the truth…well, part of it. She told him who her traveling companion was and that they were on the run from Jackson's employers. Of course, he hadn't been pleased to hear that but Lisa had ammunition now: he may not be happy but she was and he had noticed it. The conversations had been kept to polite small talk after that which bothered her.

"What are you thinking about?"

Lisa pulled herself out of her thoughts and focused on Jackson who was driving, as usual. "Why is it you always drive? The reasoning wouldn't have anything to do with that male driven fact based logic garbage you spouted on the plane would it?"

He feigned thinking about it for a moment before shaking his head. "No."

She tried to hide a smile but couldn't quite do it. "Then why haven't I done any driving?"

"I wasn't sure if your little feet could reach the pedals."

She responded with punching him in the shoulder and laughing. "Jerk."

"If you want to drive, I'll let you."

"No, that's okay."

He got quiet for a little bit before speaking again. "So what were you thinking about?"

All joking left her. "My Dad."

"I still can't believe you told him that I was with you."

"Seemed like the right thing to do at the time."

"Why is that?"

Lisa looked out the window. "He said I sounded happy."

"Are you?"

Lisa turned back to him, surprised to hear the same tone in his voice as when he asked her about her scar a lifetime ago on the red eye flight. His eyes kept flicking over to her face, trying to read her reaction before having to return his focus back to the road. She made sure he caught the smile on her face. "Yes, I am."

He tried to keep his face passive but she noticed the slight quirk at the corner of his mouth. "Are you happy," she countered.

He seemed to think about it, longer than she liked. Maybe she was just a burden to him, dead weight that he was dragging across the North American continent. What if he was only being nice to her because it was easier than chasing and threatening her? What if she was completely wrong about the turn in what passes for a relationship with him had taken? She was surprised to feel that familiar burn behind her eyes. "I get it."

"Get what?" He sounded surprised. "I didn't answer your question yet."

"You didn't have to." She tried to sound angry but her statement came out more like she was being rejected.

He let out an exasperated sigh and rubbed his forehead. "I was trying to figure out how to tell you I shouldn't be happy. That I gave up feeling that emotion years ago because…"

Lisa blinked back the tears that were threatening. "Because?"

"Because whatever made me happy usually got taken away." He swallowed forcibly. "I've done too many bad things in my life for fate to just let me have a happy ending."

She searched her mind for something that would bring him comfort. Surprisingly enough, the thing that kept coming to the forefront of her thoughts were his own words. "Well, you said yourself that sometimes bad things happen to good people."

"I'm not a good person, Leese. You should know that better than anyone."

"I already weighed in on that issue, Jackson. Yes, you've done bad things in your life but so have I. Everyone has done bad things."

He laughed shortly. "What was something bad you did? Cry to get out of a speeding ticket?"

"More than once," she teased back. "I got into the run of the mill trouble in college. Frat parties," she paused, "you know."

"Binge drinking, recreational drug use and waking up in a dorm room with in a football jersey isn't the same as taking someone's life."

She knew by the time she had spent with him, one on one, that he wasn't as ruthless as he made himself out to be. She thought he only presented himself as evil, now she realized that was how he really saw himself. "When you," she paused but pushed through, "killed people, why did you do it? Because you enjoyed it?"

His whole body physically recoiled. "Of course I didn't."

"Do you do it to feel more powerful than that other person? Or because you just have this drive that you can't control to commit the act?"

"No."

"You want to know something? Those were the three reasons the guy who raped me gave the police when asked why he did it. He enjoyed seeing other people in pain. I don't believe you do."

"And why do you think that?"

She could tell he was trying to save face instead of showing emotion. "Because you know what real pain is."

He fell silent again, his face expressionless. She wished she could see his eyes, she was getting better at reading his emotions in those eyes. After a few minutes of quiet he shifted in the driver's seat. "So have you."

She thought about it and supposed he was right in a way. She went through an unexpected death in the family, along with the ones that were expected, her parent's divorce after thirty plus years…the rape. She laughed to herself.

"What?"

"Remy was right," she said with a grin. "He told me back in Miami that I felt connected to you because I understood you."

He nodded slowly. "I guess you understand me better than most people I know."

"But you understand me too and I'm not talking about those eight weeks of just watching me."

Jackson let out a surprised gasp and Lisa jumped, looking around to see what had caused the response but there was nothing out of the ordinary. She looked back at Jackson who was grinning widely now.

"I think we're actually becoming friends, Leese."

* * *

Jackson was so tired but couldn't seem to fall asleep. They had finally stopped at a semi-decent motel for the night, grabbed something to eat, took showers and Lisa was fortunate enough to fall into bed, sleep claiming her within minutes. He, meanwhile, was left staring at the ceiling for three hours now. Their talk in the car left him uneasy. She was getting too close to him, getting to know him too well.

She had been right, though. He did understand her. He had spent the last five years pushing people away and not letting anyone get close to him. He couldn't take caring about someone only to have them snatched away because of his crimes. But Lisa wouldn't leave him now and there was nothing he could do to get her to leave either. He pulled out all the stops during and after the flight, allowed his anger and rage to fuel him during that trip to New Orleans. Still, she willingly came to him after all that had passed between them.

He tried to come up with ways to scare, anger and frustrate her but disregarded each one. There was no way to do this without hurting her, physically or emotionally, and he just wasn't willing to do that anymore. That only left one other option…let her stay and run the risk of caring about and eventually losing her.

Lisa tossed and turned restlessly in her sleep, drawing his attention from the glaring red numbers of the clock to her. She had a couple nightmares during their travels and he usually just waited it out but this one was different. Her movements were borderline violent, her fingers curled as if she were fighting off an attacker. Her rape…

"No," she was gasping, "Please…no…"

He couldn't take hearing her dream struggle anymore. Throwing the comforter back he climbed out of bed and stood next to hers. He was reluctant to physically shake her awake for the sake of her clawing his eyes out thinking he was the attacker. He was trained at restraining people larger than he was, one nightmare ridden woman shouldn't be too difficult. He grabbed one flailing wrist and felt her other arm slam into his rib cage, knocking the breath right out of him. He felt his back connect with the floor, releasing whatever air was left in his lungs. His hand was still wrapped around her wrist which only brought her down on top of him and he heard something pop.

At least it was enough jolt to wake her up. He stayed on the floor, trying to get enough breath back to get up and see if he broke a rib or another bone. Lisa was disentangling herself from the blankets and his legs. She sat down on the side of her bed, running shaky fingers through her hair while he pushed himself up into a sitting position on the floor. He put pressure on the spot where her elbow connected with his rib cage and the sharp pain that followed told him what he needed to know.

"What happened?" she asked.

"I think you broke my rib."

"What?"

He couldn't be sure if it was broken, fractured or just very badly bruised without an X-ray. Hoping he wouldn't have to wrap his chest with bandages, he pushed himself up on his own bed. "You were having a nightmare." He had to pause to catch his breath. "I tried to wake you up."

"Do you really think I broke something?"

He looked over at her, hair tousled and worried eyes. "It's probably just a fracture. I've had worse."

She started to stand up but sat back down again. "What do you want me to do?"

"Go back to sleep and try not to have a nightmare."

"I meant for you."

He shook his head. "I'll deal with it in the morning." He started to prop up pillows in case it was broken or fractured. Sleeping sitting up wasn't the best kind of sleep but he would take it at this point. He glanced over to Lisa's bed and found her across the room, digging through her suitcase. Before he could ask what she doing, she was standing next to him with an ace bandage.

"Do you always carry first aid items when you travel?"

She nodded. "Usually."

He wanted to tell her not to worry about it but he knew that look on her face, she wasn't about to take no for an answer. With a defeated sigh, he pulled his shirt over his head, wincing in pain. He felt the cold air in the room hit his bare skin and he suddenly felt very exposed. He couldn't look her in the eye at all as she wrapped the bandage around his chest. He could smell the shampoo she used that night and every time her fingers accidentally brushed his skin, he had to suppress a shiver. He closed his eyes in an effort to just let her finish but sleep finally found him.

* * *

Lisa tucked the end of the bandage into one of the many layers that were supporting Jackson's rib cage now. She was so tired but afraid to go back to sleep. Once she had that nightmare, it was possible for her to return right to it. She did feel a personal pride in the fact that it had been over a year since she had a nightmare about her rape but that sense of pride quickly faded when she realized Jackson tried to wake her up and she thanked him by nailing him in the ribs.

Stepping back from the bed, she saw that Jackson was sound asleep. Shaking her head at how he always seemed to fall asleep completely whenever he set his mind to it, she pushed him gently back against the pillows he had propped up against the cheap headboard and covered him with the blankets. Now, she faced her own bed and the possibility of the recurring nightmare. She rubbed her bare arms, trying to chase away the chill that came over her and looked back over at Jackson. She knew he slept soundly most of the time. Maybe she could find some restful sleep if he were closer to her.

Grabbing her pillow, she walked around to the other side of his bed and slowly slid under the blankets, watching for any sign that he was going to wake up. Her head was on the pillow and he was still completely unaware of her presence. With a sigh of relief, she closed her eyes and let sleep take over, feeling protected by her own personal dream catcher propped up beside her.


	14. Washburn

**Traveling Mercies**

**Chapter Fourteen: Washburn**

Lisa had stopped questioning Jackson's decisions and just followed his example. For starters, when she woke up the next morning after possibly cracking his rib, he was already up and about, never acknowledging her choice of sleeping place beside him. She never gave him an explanation either. So when they traded in the Ford Focus that had brought them across Canada for a four wheel drive Jeep Cherokee, she transferred their belongings to the new car in silence and climbed into the passenger's seat.

She watched the conifer forest fly past her once they were back on the road and without warning, the Jeep pulled off the pavement and into the woods. A momentary sense of panic came over her but when she looked over and saw the grimace of pain on Jackson's face, she realized this was a necessary route. It was a dirt road, narrow and winding, that seemed to swallow them up in the trees. Every bump in the road made the tension in Jackson's face tighter and tighter.

"Where are we?" Lisa asked. Maybe by asking questions she could get his mind off the pain.

"Crossing back into the United States." They bounced through a small ditch and he hissed. "Even with new passports I don't want to risk border patrol. Besides," another jostle in the road way, "this is a short cut to the cabin anyway."

"How long have you had the cabin?"

He seemed to think about it, counting up the time in his head. "About eight years now. Sara wanted a vacation home that no one knew about, where you could literally get away from everyone."

All questions dried up in Lisa's mouth. He was taking her to his family's hideaway. He was opening up his personal space to her and that shocked and pleased her to no end. Of course, she couldn't let him know that for the sake of him drawing away from her. She wondered how he would react seeing her in the same space that Sara had occupied. Her uneasiness only grew at this point as Jackson remained silent.

When they pulled back onto a paved road, it was a back road, barely big enough for two cars to pass each other. The forest was still just as dense but at least they back on their own country's turf. Just when she was going to ask how much longer, they passed a small sign that announced their arrival at Washburn. It was a small, New England hamlet with one main street that passed through the town.

"Don't we have to stop for supplies?"

Jackson shook his head. "Declan had an associate get things ready for us."

They passed through the town with it's privately owned businesses, leaving it behind them and continued down the winding, single lane road. She was afraid they were going to end up back in Canada when he pulled off the road onto another dirt road. It wound through the woods once more and finally, the cabin came into view and she physically felt herself relax. They had made it to their safe haven and could finally relax.

The cabin looked fairly new, not the dark brown that she normally associated with the term "cabin," but almost a gold color to the wood. She could see a stack of firewood along the side of the two story building. It actually looked inviting, safe and homey. She was afraid to go inside though. She looked over at Jackson who put the Jeep in park and turned it off. The sudden silence seemed too loud. She was nervous about entering a house that Sara may have poured her heart into decorating and making a home. She was even more nervous about how this was going to affect Jackson.

"When was the last time you were here?"

He was staring straight ahead, his eyes half closed. "Awhile."

* * *

Could this be considered cowardice? He didn't want to go into that house. The last time he had crossed the threshold was three years ago. He had thought he could handle it last time but seeing the small details in the house that Sara had put there had been too much. He had ended up burning most of the pictures that were scattered around, unable to look at them and feel nothing else but guilt for their deaths. Kaylee had come to his rescue at least and managed to hide what photos were left from his purging, though he didn't know where. It was too late to ask her their location now.

He could feel Lisa's eyes on him, waiting for a movement or order. She had been oddly complacent with him for the last few days and even more so after the hotel incident. He wasn't concerned about the change in her mood, he was just noticing. Even though he had claimed to know her life inside and out, which was true, he didn't know her. She surprised him on too many occasions, something that Sara had done as well. The thought of placing Lisa in the same category as Sara momentarily stopped his heart, causing him to cough once in an effort to restart it. Well, he couldn't sit in the Jeep all day, staring at the cabin.

Opening the car door, he got out and heard Lisa doing the same. By the time he had walked around the back of the vehicle, she was already holding her suitcase and had his bag slung over her shoulder. He reached for the strap but she shot him a "yeah right" look. The twinge in his side reminded him, he wouldn't be able to carry it anyway. As they walked up onto the porch, his eyes fell on the firewood. It would be a couple weeks before he could carry armloads of that into the house. He hoped Lisa didn't have her heart set on a fire. He bit the inside of his cheek. Where had that thought come from?

He unlocked the door and braced himself for the worst but it didn't come, oddly enough. Nothing had changed, save for the lack of personal photographs. They walked through the kitchen, stainless steel gleaming, with the kitchen table at the other end of the room in front of the floor to ceiling windows that looked out at the small pond. Off of the kitchen was the living room with stone fireplace. Declan must have upgraded for them because a flat screen plasma TV was hanging on the stone of the fireplace. There were stairs that led down into an office as well as the stairs that led up to the two bedrooms in the house. Looked like he was going to be camping out in the office. One quick peek down the stairs and he was relieved to see whoever Declan had stock the cabin had turned the office into a spare bedroom. At least he wouldn't be sleeping on the couch. He turned around and found Lisa staring out the living room window at the pond.

"This is beautiful."

An odd sense of pride filled his chest and pushed unpleasantly on the damaged rib. "Thank you. I'll sleep down there and you can have the master bedroom upstairs."

"Are you sure?" She gave him a wry grin. "It is your house."

It was but he couldn't bring himself to go up stairs. Not yet. Not with her watching him and his reactions. He suddenly felt angry at himself for telling her about Sara and Joel. If she didn't know then she wouldn't be looking at him like that, like she was apologizing for them having to be there with the ghosts of his dead wife and son as roommates. He forced a smile. "You're the guest."

She silently carried his bag down into the office and then took her suitcase up the stairs. Before she could ask any questions from opening doors that shouldn't be opened, he went down into the office and makeshift bedroom, closing the door with a quiet snap and locking it. He was tired and not just physically. He was starting to get frustrated with himself for constantly feeling this way, like he was suffering from chronic fatigue syndrome of the soul.

He propped pillows up against the wall and crawled onto the single bed. He could hear Lisa moving around upstairs, no doubt looking at the various objects in the master bedroom. He remembered the day Sara had bought the wooden shelf that took up the entire wall across from the bed. She had filled the various cubicles with picture frames, vases and various other items she had found in antique shops. He closed his eyes and wondered why he wasn't upset with the thought of Lisa touching Sara's handpicked treasures.

* * *

Lisa spent the entire evening looking at everything in the cabin since Jackson had apparently locked himself in his office bedroom. The master bedroom was beyond beautiful with an open beamed vaulted ceiling, modern-rustic furnishings and a private bathroom that was complete with hot tub. Whoever had prepared the cabin for them had thought of every detail. The bathroom was stocked with fresh towels, change of bed sheets and a variety of shower gels, shampoo and even bath salts for the hot tub. She walked out of the bathroom and her eyes fell on the queen sized bed where her suitcase rested on the deep colored quilt.

She wondered how she was going sleep in the bed that Jackson had shared with his wife. She still couldn't wrap her mind around the thought of him having a family and what that implied. He must have proposed to her, how did he do it? Were they married in a church or at a court house? Where did they go for their honeymoon, if anywhere? Wanting to get her mind off the thought of Jackson taking part in the marital bliss of being a newlywed, she left the bedroom and walked across the hall. There were two other doorways in the upstairs, one that led into the master bathroom and the other door was shut. She half expected the door to be locked but was surprised when the knob turned easily.

The sight brought stinging tears to her eyes and she was surprised that she had forgotten about Joel. It was a well lit room, with a large picture window that overlooked the pond and woods that flanked the house. The walls had been painted a mint green with white baby furniture, a theme of the classic Winnie the Pooh made their presence known in the mobile over the crib, stuffed animals scattered around the room and a ceramic piggy bank in the shape of the bear with his hand in a honey pot.

Standing in the sadly abandoned room, a whole new wave of unanswered questions came to her. What had been his reaction when Sara told him she was expecting? Was he one of those doting fathers to be or did he expect his wife to carry on through morning sickness and back aches? Was he present at his son's birth or was he plotting murder half way around the world? A small smile crept on her face as she wondered if he ever changed diapers or did midnight feedings. Being in the nursery brought on more sadness that she didn't want to feel at the moment so she closed the door to the room and headed downstairs.

There were less personal touches in the living room, kitchen and dining room. She could have been walking through a model for a house instead of an actual home. There were a couple of bookcases, all filled with a variety of genres from biographies, to classics, to present day best sellers. And what was that on the bottom shelf? Lisa indulged in a smug smile as she pulled a Dr. Phil book from the shelf. Oh, she wasn't about to let this go. She flipped the cover open and almost dropped the book. In the corner of the inside cover was neatly written "Sara Rippner."

Lisa put the book back and rubbed her shaking hands on her jeans. Seeing the name handwritten, knowing it was put there by Sara's hand, only made the loss more real to her. She walked over to where she could see the office door, closed and everything silent behind it. She wondered if Jackson was okay. He had said on the red eye flight that he wasn't suicidal but that seemed like a lifetime ago. What if being here was too much for him? She knew he was armed, in fact, he had a couple guns on him and even that horrible KA-BAR knife. Granted, he hadn't wielded the knife, she had accidentally found it rummaging through his bag to look for pictures of Kaylee while he showered one night. There were so many things he had at his disposal in that room.

Before she could stop herself, she was standing in front of the closed door, listening for any sounds from the other side. She could hear him breathing, that was good. Maybe she was worrying too much. He was much too confident to attempt suicide. Wasn't he? She was silently debating what to do when an irritated voice from inside the room startled her.

"What do you need, Leese?"

She shifted nervously from foot to foot and realized how he knew she was standing there: creaky floorboards. "Nothing. I was just…"

The door swung open and she was faced with a very sleepy looking Jackson. "Just what?"

Having seen the entire house now, seeing the abandoned remnants of his normal life, she felt nothing but sympathy for him. Apparently, that wasn't what he wanted from her as his irritation seemed to grow.

"I don't need your pity."

"It's not pity."

He sported a momentary look of confusion. "Then what is it, Leese?"

She was trying to search her mind for the right word but he was so close. The last time he had been this close to her, he had a hand wrapped around her throat and throw up against a wall. But there was no threats hanging between them now and her mind had given up looking for a the word that would diffuse the situation, instead studying his face without the veil of fear. She never noticed the thin layer of faint freckles that were splattered across his high cheekbones. He really was a handsome man. A handsome, dangerous man that was leaning closer to her.

* * *

He groaned in annoyance when he heard the floorboards creak. He figured once she saw the entire house she would come pester him. No matter how long he mentally prepared himself for her female empathy, he knew it wouldn't be easy to deal with it. Especially when he had to keep reminding himself it was Lisa walking around upstairs and not Sara. He heard the floorboard creak again and opened his eyes. So much for a nap.

"What do you need, Leese?"

The floorboards creaked again. "Nothing. I was just…"

Her voice faded and the sentence dropped off into nothing. He swung his legs over the side of the bed and walked over to the door, pulling it open. "Just what?"

He waited for her answer patiently but his patience quickly faded. She looked ready to cry and he didn't want any her tears. If he wanted anything from her it was understanding. She knew loss and unfairness in the world, she should know he didn't want sympathy from her.

"I don't need your pity."

The sadness in her eyes quickly disappeared, the familiar spark of anger replacing it. "It's not pity."

He feigned confusion, wondering how in the world she was going to get out of this. "Then what is it, Leese?"

He watched her mind working, no doubt trying to find the right word that best described her feelings and not make him angrier than what he was. Actually, he was surprised his earlier irritation had quickly dissipated. Now, he just wanted to be left alone and sleep. He turned his attention back to Lisa and was surprised to find her carefully studying his face. When did she get so close to him? An idea came to him and the more he thought about it, the more he liked the sounds of it. Either way, she would leave him in peace, in either anger or happiness. He closed most of the gap between them and waited. He wasn't disappointed when he felt her place a tentative kiss against his lips. He smiled slightly as he looked down at her flushed face. "And you don't call that pity?"

Her retribution was swift and unexpected. He heard the resounding smack before the white hot heat exploded through his left cheek. When words finally came back to him, Lisa was gone and he heard the bedroom door upstairs slam shut. He got what he wanted, for her to leave him alone. So why did he suddenly feel disappointed at her absence?


	15. Rebuilding Bridges

**Author's Note: **This chapter is dedicated to every hopeless romantic that is out there as well as all my very faithful and wonderful reviewers! Thank you from the bottom of my heart for your encouragements and time! This isn't the end, not by a long shot, but I just wanted to express my heartfelt thankfulness to you all!

**Traveling Mercies**

**Chapter Fifteen: Rebuilding Bridges**

Lisa was furious with Jackson as well as with herself. How stupid could she really be? She slammed the door to the bedroom shut and threw herself down on the bed, no longer caring about the former occupants from years ago. Just when she thought things were going smoothly, that they were finding that connection that originally sparked between them in the line for the red eye flight, Jackson slipped back into that arrogant bastard he prided himself to be.

That sudden train of thought yanked her out of her rage and she sat up on the bed. Was it really right to get angry at him when he pulled crap like this? He spent the majority of his life being whatever "the job" needed him to be. He had been charming and kind when she first met him in the airport. Once they were in the air, he made a smooth transition from perfect gentleman to ruthless captor. But during their cross country trek she had seen the man he really was since there was no job driving his actions that time, no role he had to play.

She got up, grabbed a clean set of clothes from her suitcase and headed into the bathroom. She closed the hallway door and locked it, more out of habit than fear. Her head was reeling from the sudden epiphany that she had and taking a shower always seemed to help her organize her thoughts. She didn't like doing it but she replayed the events of the red eye flight through her mind as she stood under the hot water. Instead of looking for things she could have done better or differently, she tried to recall the cracks in Jackson's steely veneer.

She had discounted his interactions with her in the line and at the Tex Mex as they didn't quite match up with the man she had come to know. The guy in the Tex Mex was too friendly, too outgoing. Jackson seemed to prefer quiet as opposed to conversation. But there was that man on the plane that seemed more like the man she was getting to know. How he stowed her suitcase for her and then helped the leather faced woman, returning to his seat with a grinning "Oh my." When he was telling her about what he did and was starting to show his real purpose, he had done it in almost a kind way. Almost.

She glanced down and saw the water running over her scar. To this moment she could still feel his thumb brush over it and hear the uncertainty in his voice. _Did someone do that to you?_ Not "what happened" or "that looks nasty" or even "care to share?" No, instead she was given the gentle reminder which he later reiterated in the flight: It was beyond your control. Replaying his words, she also remembered the tone he had used with them. He had sounded like a friend trying to reassure her that it wasn't her fault, the scar and the Keefe's imminent demise, and she wondered if he had tried to soothe other victims that were unfortunate enough to be pawns in his Agency's plans. His Agency…not him.

As she turned the water off and dried herself, Jackson's snappish remarks became easier to understand. It was just reversed from the flight. Back then, when he was doing his job, glimmers of the humane Jackson peeked through the terrifying manager he showed himself to be. Now that the role of manager was done and he was able to be himself, shards of that ruthless person from the flight exploded and damaged whatever positive steps they had taken towards each other. He was no doubt hiding behind that managerial façade he was so good at to protect his emotions from being used against him. The only way for any kind of relationship to work between them, be it merely friendship or something more, she would have to stand strong against those bursts of anger and smugness, allow them to cut and hurt her, until he realized she wasn't going anywhere.

She pulled a sweatshirt over her head, yanked her jeans on and slipped into her sneakers before heading downstairs again. She had decided to carry on as if nothing had happened and let him decide how to smooth things over. Of course, something had happened but it was too precious and personal for her to let go of at the moment. After two and half years, she finally let a man close enough to her that she actually kissed him. She couldn't help but feel pride at the not so small victory.

* * *

Jackson was able to sleep but only in about twenty minute spurts. Either he would slip down the wall that propped him up and the pain from the rib woke him or it was his conscious. He felt horrible for what he had said to her, not a feeling he was used to dealing with. He briefly considered going after her and apologizing but quickly dismissed it. He had hurt her female pride with words and she had smarted his male ego with a slap across the face. It was an eye for an eye…they were even.

After what felt like the fiftieth time he jerked awake, Jackson got up. He was too frustrated now to fall asleep. His only hope was to prop himself up in the corner of the couch and hopefully get a couple hours of sleep. He couldn't predict Lisa's mood and he wanted to be prepared for anything she threw at him, figuratively or literally, though the latter wasn't likely. He was starting to become convinced more and more that they had left behind the red eye events and were moving into the uncharted territory of friendship.

Before he headed out of the office, he grabbed a clean pair of comfortable clothes and took a quick shower in the bathroom connected to the office. He kept thinking about the interaction between him and Lisa that night and once again wished he could take back that comment about her kissing him being only about pity. In fact, he had been elated in the amount of trust she had placed in him, allowing herself to be physically affectionate with him. All the times he had watched her skirt around strange men so they wouldn't touch her, brush off social advances from customers and men in the local watering hole in Miami, came rushing back to him. She had kissed him willingly and it was most likely the first time in two years that she had done something like that.

That familiar frustration and anger at his ill chosen words came back to him once more. Maybe he should apologize anyway. The more he thought about what she had to overcome for that one small action the more he felt like the heartless bastard he was. This had to change. He had to change. He should have reacted with quiet gratitude instead of smart mouth insolence. It was going to be hard to overcome the distasteful aspects of his personality that he had allowed to run rampant since Sara's death. But he could do it. He could revert back to the man he was.

Showered and changed, he opened the door and walked up the mini-flight of stairs, thankful the late hour assured him of solitude. But when he reached the living room, all thoughts of being alone were quickly vanquished. Lisa had started a fire, the orangey light flickering off of the walls, floor, couch and the woman sitting on it. Lisa had her legs drawn up underneath of her, staring wide eyed at whatever she watching on the TV.

The usual feeling of encroachment never came as he stood there and watched her. Instead, he was almost relieved. She seemed calm, not angry or hurt. Of course, she hadn't noticed his presence yet so that may change in the next couple seconds. He was trying to form an appropriate greeting, whether it be an apology or just a "hey," when she surprised him for a second time that night.

"I'm not changing the channel so don't ask," she said without ever taking her eyes off of the TV. Even though it was a no nonsense comment, only Lisa could take the venom out the words.

Jackson slowly made his way over to the couch and wedged himself in the corner farthest from Lisa. He tried to suppress a wry grin at seeing her almost through the movie _Flightplan_. She was at the part where the plane had made an emergency landing and the all the passengers were disembarking. No wonder she hadn't wanted to change the channel. Well, he wasn't interested in watching TV anyway. He was watching her, the firelight dancing off of her features and he was slowly falling asleep. The last thing he remembered before his eyes closed, was staring at her lips and wanted to feel them against his again, making sure the kiss ended right.

* * *

Lisa turned off the TV after the movie ended and looked over at Jackson, who oddly enough hadn't said a word since he walked out of the office and sat down on the other end of the couch. She was surprised to find his head resting on the back of the couch, neck completely exposed, and sound asleep. She never met anyone who could sleep anyway, anytime and seemingly on command.

She stood up slowly and retrieved a blanket that she had found in the mud/laundry room that was located under the nursery. Carefully, she draped it over him in case the fire died out after she went to bed. She stood there for a moment and watched him sleep. He looked younger, more vulnerable when he was sleeping. But then again, didn't everybody? She didn't like it, not on him. She wanted to see his face, his eyes, animated. She wanted to see him alert and on guard. She felt unprotected and vulnerable with him so very sound asleep.

She was afraid to go upstairs and climb into bed. She didn't like the idea of sleeping on the couch with Jackson but she wasn't necessarily opposed to it either, especially when it offered her safety. She went back out to the mud room and grabbed a second blanket but then a second problem arose. She could sleep with her head on the opposite end of the couch, propping her feet up on him but then she would run the risk of kicking him which would only worsen his injured state. She had to go with the other option.

She grabbed one of the pillows on the couch and propped it up against Jackson's leg. Trying not to think too much about what his reaction was going to be when he woke up, she laid down and pulled the blanket over her. She expected to feel uncomfortable, being this close to him, but an odd sense of comfort surprised her. Even though he wasn't exuding that buzzing type of energy that was only his, the solidness under her head assured her of his protection. It didn't take long for her to fall asleep.

It seemed like all she did was blink and when she opened her eyes, the room was filled with bright sunlight and a chill from the lack of fire. The TV was on but turned down so low she wondered how Jackson could hear the news report. Jackson…she was slightly embarrassed to realize she was still using his leg to prop up her pillow. She was getting ready to sit up when she realized he had threaded his fingers through her hair, the tips resting on her scalp. It was actually quite relaxing and she silently warred with herself whether to feign sleep or announce her wakefulness. Unfortunately, the decision was made for her when Jackson removed his hand.

"Morning, Leese."

Slowly, she sat up and ran her fingers through her disheveled hair. The skin on her scalp still tingled from his touch. "Morning." She waited for him to say something but after a few moments of silence, he just stood up and went back down to the office.

* * *

Jackson woke up sometime in the early morning. Fringes of orange and pink above the tree tops spoke of the early hour. He was going to get up, see what kind of food was in the refrigerator, when he looked down to see Lisa sleeping against him. She must have covered him with a blanket and then put her pillow against his leg. She was sound asleep, looking peaceful for the first time since he had known her. He had watched her sleep before, but there had always been a tension to her face. Not now though, her face was smooth, relaxed and with a slight smile.

He took the situation as a sign of her forgiveness for his slip yesterday and that only solidified his decision to work on being more kind to her. She was certainly making strides to be nice to him, which brought him back to her head in his lap. He wasn't sure what to do now. He couldn't get up without waking her up but the few hours of solid sleep finally made him feel more rested than he had in the last few weeks and he was ready to do something with that energy. But she needed sleep as well so he picked up the remote that was on the table next to the couch and turned on the TV, keeping the volume down low. He watched infomercials, re-runs of Sanford and Son and the Cosby Show until the local news came on.

He had fallen into the relaxing state of mind that Lisa was emanating and he remembered times when Sara would fall asleep, propped up against his side, giving off the same vibes of contentment. It was such a basic reaction that had been buried years ago but he still surprised himself when he looked down and found his hand entwined in her hair. At first he was afraid it would wake her up but all it did was elicit a contented sigh from her and she kept sleeping.

They must have stayed like for two hours before he felt her shift and the familiar tension in her face and body was back. Slowly, he disentangled his hand from her hair.

"Morning Leese."

She took her time sitting up and trying to fix the hair he had mussed up. "Morning."

He waited to see if she was going to say anything about their sleeping positions but she remained steadfastly quiet. He didn't know what to say to her and he actually was afraid of saying the wrong thing again so he just quietly stood up and retreated back into his safe place, the office. He changed into jeans but kept the sweatshirt on. There was nothing to do right now but just rest and prepare for whenever the Agency found them. Which brought up a possible problem. He was going to have to teach Lisa how to fire a gun and not just fire it, but fire it accurately. Not his strong suit.

He tried to kill some time by firing up the computer and checking email. Nothing pressing, just Declan and Remy wanting an update. He answered them both with the same short email telling them that they had arrived at the cabin and were doing fine. It would appease Declan but not Remy, since most of the Cajun's questions were about Lisa and her welfare. He knew his friend well enough to know when Remy had a soft spot for someone. It might please Lisa to know that Remy was asking about her.

He figured he had given her enough time to wake up and headed towards the kitchen to find something to eat. The smell of coffee and eggs greeted him and he silently praised Lisa for feeling at home enough to cook in the kitchen. But his grin quickly faded when he entered the kitchen and found a tearful Lisa over a pan of scrambled eggs.

"What's the matter?"

She jumped slightly at the sound of his voice and quickly rubbed her eyes. "Nothing."

"Lisa."

She sighed and poked at the runny eggs absentmindedly. "I tried calling my Dad but I can't get a signal here."

"Oh," the breath he had been holding whooshed out of his lungs. "There's a phone in the office. You can email him too, there's a computer in there as well."

She sniffed slightly. "I don't mean to feel sorry for you."

He grabbed a mug out of the cabinet and poured some coffee into it. "I know," he answered tightly.

"I know how much I wanted to hit people when they told me how sorry they were about what happened to me." She turned and smiled impishly through her tears. "God knows I don't need to give you another reason to make you want to hit me."

He was impressed by her ability to joke about that but it didn't sit well with him. "You know we're past that, right?"

She rolled her eyes and wiped the tears from them again. "Of course I know that. I've," she turned away from him abruptly, "I've actually enjoyed spending time with you these last couple weeks."

"I've enjoyed them too." He had admitted it to himself but hearing the words leave his mouth made him feel very vulnerable. Well, he was already exposed, may as well make it worthwhile. "Except for yesterday."

She stiffened visibly. "What about yesterday?"

He moved closer to her, just a mere inch or two away from her. "I said something that I didn't mean."

Her green eyes studied his face, searching for something. "What did you mean?"

He was so used to taking chances but he felt like he was standing on quicksand now. The only way out of quicksand was to not struggle but to move forward and pull yourself out. The struggle with his emotions was pulling him under so he moved forward and slipped an arm around Lisa's waist, closing the space between them. "I meant to say thank you."

She swallowed audibly and trembled against him. "Thank you for what?"

"For trusting me." He bent his head towards her, trying to see if there was any fear in her but found none. When his lips finally made contact with hers, he heard the spatula she had been using clatter on the floor. He half expected her to push him away but when her hands found him, they were attempting to draw him closer. He didn't want to push his luck, and frighten her again. He knew if he really showed her how he was felling at the moment he would have her backed up against the refrigerator, kissing her none too gently. But the images of the look that always crossed her face whenever a man got too close was pushed to the forefront of his mind and he loosened his hold on her and pulled away. Her eyes fluttered open and he brushed a stray tear off of her pink hued cheeks.

"Thank you," she whispered.

He found her thanking him strange and just when he thought he was as vulnerable as possible, she managed to make him feel even more exposed. She reached up and placed a hand on the cheek that she had slapped yesterday. He leaned into her palm instinctively. "For what?"

"For making me stronger." And she leaned up towards him, returning his kiss with one of her own.


	16. Guns, Snow and Kisses

**Author's Note: **I really appreciate everyone's patience with this story as I'm trying to work on NaNoWriMo as well. If you're interested in that one, it's over in the Batman section! And surprise, surprise, it deals with the Scarecrow! There is a fluff warning on this...my apologies but I figured, hey, even they deserve some fluff time before everything goes wrong again! 

**Traveling Mercies**

**Chapter Sixteen: Guns, Snow and Kisses**

Lisa thought that nothing could surprise her more then those tentative kisses in the kitchen but the next few days proved even more surprising. Even though she had come to accept the idea of a kinder, gentler Jackson, she still fought with her doubts that he never did anything without having a purpose behind it. And usually when a man kissed a woman, there was only one purpose in mind.

She braced herself for more wanton overtures from him but none came. There were just minor changes that had happened between them: they invaded each other's personal spaces when they passed, there were brief touches to shoulders or arms and they sat closer to each other on the couch. She even fell asleep next to him on the couch late one night and woke up with her head on his chest and his arms around her. She expected to feel a rise of panic for being so vulnerable around him but the only thing she felt was safe.

She wasn't the only one that had changed though. Jackson seemed free of tension, no longer reminding her of a coiled spring. Instead, and it made her smile to think of him this way, his relaxed, almost fluid movements brought to her mind how he reminded her of a slinky. He spent most of the days stretched out on the couch reading a variety of books but she figured that was due to his rib. Each day she found him more and more active. In fact, earlier this morning she actually saw him chopping firewood and stacking it. When she finally managed to eat some breakfast and dress for the cold weather, he was already done and standing over the kitchen sink with a cup of coffee and something else she couldn't see. She started pulling off her gloves and scarf when he noticed her.

"I would keep those on," he said simply.

She stepped closer and saw he was cleaning a gun. A lump rose in her throat. "Where are we going?"

"Our own private shooting range." He reached around and pulled a small silver gun from the waist band of his jeans. He held it out to her and she gingerly took it. "I think it's time you learned how to shoot a gun."

She bit back a grin. This could be fun. He didn't have to know that after the red eye flight, she bought herself a gun and went regularly to the shooting range. "I thought you said you were a lousy shot?"

His hands paused in the reassembly of his gun. "Haven't you ever heard the saying 'Those who can't do, teach.'"

She looked down at the small gun in her hands and realized it was one that she almost bought for herself. Instead, she decided on a Glock, like the one Jackson was loading at the moment. "What type of BERSA is this?"

He looked at her like she had grown two heads before recovering. "It's a Thunder 380. It's light but sturdy, you can conceal it in a purse or coat pocket if you want to carry it on you. It makes for a good woman's hand gun."

"And yours?"

He slid the loaded ammunition cartridge into the handle of the gun. "This is a subcompact Glock 29. I have a couple Smith and Wesson's but I learned how to shoot on Glock so that's always the most comfortable. Did you eat?"

She nodded, feeling slightly overheated from being dressed for snow in the warm cabin.

He pulled his down coat back on and picked up a pair of Oakley sunglasses, sliding them over his blue eyes. "Did you bring sunglasses?"

She pulled her pair out of her coat pocket. "Are you kidding? Being from Florida, I have more pairs of sunglasses than shoes."

He smiled briefly and she followed him outside into the bone chilling cold of the outdoors. She had spent a little time outside the cabin. Being used to the balmy climate of Miami, Maine's weather was just too cold for her liking. "How far away is this private shooting range?"

"Not that far. Half a mile walk through the woods," he answered.

She watched him step surefooted through the two inches of snow that were on the ground. Snow never ceased to amaze her though. She had grown up in Miami, traveling to Houston to visit her mother's side of the family. Snow was a thing of bedtime stories and myths. Her steps were less than sure as she was unfamiliar with the frozen ground beneath it but her interest was in seeing her foot depress in the white powder. It was just like really cold sand.

"Leese?"

She looked up from her footprints and found herself nose to nose with a pine tree. If Jackson hadn't called her attention to it, she would have run right into it. Embarrassed, she backed up a couple steps and gave him a mumbled "thanks." He had one of those barely contained smirks on his face.

"Penny for your thoughts?"

She stepped up to his side and they continued past the tree line. "I was just thinking about how snow wasn't that common in Miami."

He nodded thoughtfully. "It wasn't that common in New Orleans and Stilwell either."

"Is that why you and Sara chose Maine?" She knew it was a risk to bring Sara up but he showed no discomfort anymore. Joel, however, was another matter entirely. Jackson still wouldn't venture past the stairs and remained only on the first floor of the cabin.

"Sara grew up near Albany so snow was extremely commonplace for her. She thought of snow as a reminder of home and I enjoyed it because it was so different to where I was raised. What do you think about it?"

Lisa didn't want to damper his seemingly good mood. "It's interesting. Different."

"You hate it, don't you?"

She was surprised to hear genuine disappointment in his voice. "I just need to get used to it, that's all."

They continued the rest of their trek in companionable silence. Once they were through the woods, the path opened into a very large meadow. There were already two targets stapled to the tree trunks. She tried to hide her smile as he paced out fifty yards and pulled the gun out of his coat pocket. She slowly wandered over to where he was standing, pulling her gun out as well. She couldn't believe she was standing in the middle of nowhere with an armed Jackson and not feeling any sense of fear.

She heard Jackson arm the gun and she followed the action with her own gun. She listened to his instructions, how to hold the gun, aim, hold your breath before slowly pulling the trigger. It was the same instruction that she had received at the shooting range back in Miami but she nodded, letting him think he was teaching her something new. He fired the gun five times and Lisa was surprised to see he wasn't that bad of a shot as he said he was.

"Ready?"

She stepped directly into the footprints that he had left and raised the gun. She saw out of the corner of her eye him move towards her but she squeezed off five rounds, effectively blowing out the center of the bulls eye. When she looked over at him, she so wished she had a camera. His face was slack, mouth hanging slightly open. She was tempted to take off his glasses just so she could see the shock in his blue eyes. His reaction only lasted for a few seconds before he cleared his throat and regained his composure.

"Well, that lesson was short lived."

Lisa bite her lip to keep from laughing. "Guess we know who'll be the sharp shooter if the Agency finds us."

"I suppose it wouldn't hurt to let you keep that gun now I'm sure you won't shoot me while I sleep."

Lisa laughed. "The way you sleep I don't think that you were worried about anything."

"You got me," he put the safety back on the gun. "Some big, scary terrorist I've turned out to be."

Even through her dark lenses she could see the cold air that whipped up color in his normally pale, freckled cheeks and the lopsided grin he was sporting was more genuine than most she had seen. All signs of the man who had threatened her and her father's life was no where to be seen. "You're not so scary anymore."

"Anymore?" His grin widened as he put the gun back into his pocket. "I have a scar right here," he pointed to his throat, "that says you never thought I was scary."

"Well, you were slightly intimidating."

He sauntered over to her. "Slightly?"

She held up her hand, holding her thumb and forefinger about an inch apart. "A little bit." She wasn't sure which one of them moved first, she just knew they were grinning at each other one minute and kissing the next. She tried to slip her gun into her pocket so she had both hands so she could hold on to Jackson better but he smiled against her lips.

"Don't put it away."

"Why not?"

He kissed her again before replying. "Nothing is sexier than a woman with a gun."

A long peal of laughter erupted from her chest and she realized in that moment, standing in the snow with Jackson Rippner, who was waiting patiently for her to stop laughing so the kissing could resume, and a gun in her hand, she was in love. It truly was a miracle considering everything she had been through and all her hang ups over the years. It was a miracle for the man in front of her too as being in love could be the only explanation for the look on his face at the moment. How fitting it took a man with both angel and demon inside of him to pull off such a phenomenon.

* * *

Jackson was seriously worried that Lisa would spend the rest of her life (or his) pulling these surprises on him. He never would have guessed that she could fire a gun with such deadly accuracy, joke about their past and the Agency and actually look happy with only him for company. However, there was the biggest surprise of all that he had yet to reveal to her: he had fallen in love with her. He couldn't place when it actually happened. It could have started with Canadian road trip and then events at the cabin just solidified it or it could have happened all the way back on the red eye flight. His rage at feeling the same emotions for Lisa as he did for Sara, would explain why he became so terribly obsessed and enraged at her. He didn't know when it started but he was certain of it now.

He hoped she felt the same way though the trouble that would bring them was immense. He was a wanted criminal on the run as well as a rogue agent for his Agency now. They could never live a normal life. Her friends and family would drag her away from him the first chance they got, screaming Stockholm Syndrome the entire time and they would never believe her version of events. He only had Declan and Remy that he trusted with something as personal as this and that wasn't exactly a social circle.

No, it wouldn't work and it wouldn't be fair to her. He couldn't get the image of her laughing whole heartedly in the snow covered field. After the brief but numerous kisses, her face was flushed with long depressed desire and cold; thick auburn curls a chaotic mass underneath the ski cap she had worn. He always thought she was beautiful but seeing her like that was unforgettable because it hurt to look at her, like he was staring directly at the sun and not caring it was destroying his sight.

They made their way back to the cabin, shared a nice dinner and collapsed on the sofa again as was their routine. Lisa curled up next to him earlier in the night than she normally did but he wasn't about to complain. He knew their time was running out, just like every other good thing that ever happened to him: there was always a limit. He felt her tense up and relax every few seconds and recognized this was her getting ready to say something that she wasn't quite comfortable voicing. He threaded a hand through her hair and gently rubbed her scalp, a relaxation trick that had always worked on Sara and apparently on Lisa as well.

"Jackson?"

"Lisa." He felt her smile, her cheek wrinkled against his shoulder.

"I'm really happy here." She paused. "With you, I mean."

"I'm happy with the situation as well."

"It's been a while since I've felt this way."

"Same here."

She shifted against him and he looked down to see if she was okay when her lips closed over his. He expected it to be no different than the other ones, brief and chaste, but she surprised him by fisting her hands in his shirt and deepening the kiss, the desire behind it unmistakable. He felt completely off balance, not sure what was acceptable for him to do anymore. If it had been anyone else, well, they wouldn't still be sitting on the couch at the moment. But this was Lisa, who was navigating the unfamiliar waters of physical attraction herself. It wasn't part of his make up to let the woman lead, especially in this aspect of a relationship, but his desire to protect Lisa overrode anything normal in him. So he sat there, trying to reign in his natural instincts as she thoroughly kissed him, running her hands through his hair, down his neck and across his chest. Then he felt her stiffen and pull back from him.

He opened his eyes only to see hers wide with shock or fear, his aroused addled mind couldn't process which it was. He glanced down and saw the reason for her panicky withdrawal: his hand had a firm grip on her hip. Slowly, he removed his hand and waited for her response. It was not a positive one. She covered her swollen lips with her hand and tears filled her eyes. He was afraid to physical try to comfort her so he made a conscious effort to keep his hands to himself.

"Leese-"

"I'm sorry," she blurted and then she fled. By the time he stood up, she was already up the stairs and he heard the bedroom door shut. He stood there for a few minutes, trying to get his breathing under control. He rubbed his hands over his eyes tiredly and picked up the remote control to turn off the TV.

"She's going to give me a stroke," he muttered to himself before heading down to the office to take a very cold shower. Once that was done and he was back in control of his faculties, he sat down at the computer to check email. Lisa never signed out of her email session and there was an unopened email from her father. It was an easy email address to remember so he signed out of Lisa's email and went into his own account. He had been thinking of doing this for Lisa and Remy had already offered his help with it. Considering everything that was happening between them now, it seemed like the best thought out plan.

He wrote Joe Reisert a very formal but neutral sounding email about how he thought it would mean a lot to Lisa if he could come to Maine to spend Christmas with them. He told him that Remy, the Cajun hotel manager that had returned Lisa to him from New Orleans would be coming as well and was more than willing to travel with him, if he preferred that. Jackson hoped the lure of seeing Lisa and having another person that Joe Reisert trusted come with him would cause the older man to come to the cabin.

Jackson knew what that would mean though. It was very reasonable to think that Lisa would want to return back to Miami with her father. She didn't like the snow or the cold weather. She missed her father and even her mother at times. And now that they were playing this game of teasing kisses and fearful retreats, she would be all the more ready to return to familiar ground. He assured himself that this would be the best for her in the long run as he sent the email.

A sense of bone deep exhaustion came over him and he got up from the desk, going over to the bed and yanking the covers back. Just as he was ready to lay down, the computer dinged that he had received an email. Curiosity got the better of him and he checked to see who it was. Surprisingly, it was a very short response from Joe.

_I'll be there._

Deleting the email before Lisa could see it, he shut off the computer and returned to the ever inviting bed. No sooner were the covers pulled over him and his head hit the pillow, there was a very light knock on the office door. He took a moment to make sure his voice didn't hold any annoyance.

"Yes, Leese?"

The door opened quietly on it's hinges and he heard her pad over to the other side of the bed. "I can't sleep, Jackson." Her voice was thick with tears.

"Okay." He started to get up and make his way to the couch but she surprised him yet again by crawling into the bed with him. She stayed on the edge opposite of him , her hunched shoulders and back facing him and he gave her what little space the bed offered them.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, "I'm just," she sniffed, "I'm just so used to hearing you…having you there now."

He turned his back towards her, hoping she would relax enough to fall asleep. "That's fine, Leese. Don't worry about it." He waited until he heard her even breathing before he closed his eyes and finally fell asleep.


	17. Burn and Freeze

**Author's Note: **A huge thanks to everyone who's read this story! I was pleasantly suprised (okay, I was running around screaming for an hour last night) when I saw that someone had recommended my story on the jacksonxlisa live journal community! I have officially made it! :-) This chapter is dedicated to all my faithful reviewers and readers...you have all made me feel like the ulitmate high! Thank you and enjoy!

**Traveling Mercies**

**Chapter Seventeen: Burn and Freeze**

Lisa woke up the next morning slightly startled at the unfamiliar surroundings. Then her memory of last night came back to her with full, shaming force. These last few days with Jackson had only solidified her growing feelings towards him. She had come to not only be in love with him, but just love him. She faced and accepted feelings that she hadn't felt in years and she allowed herself to get caught up in them last night. That kiss...just thinking about it sent her lips tingling again. She rolled over slowly to see if Jackson was still there and had to cover her mouth to keep from laughing.

He was lying all the way on the other side of the bed, one arm hanging off the mattress and his other flung over his head. His deep breathing was of a sound sleep, causing a wheezing to issue from his throat. Her mind went back to the flight and then the ensuing fight at her father's house and it was like watching a movie of two completely different people just playing at being Lisa Reisert and Jackson Rippner. Those people who fought each other so hard in Miami were not the same people at the cabin in Maine. And as if to prove that to herself, Lisa turned to face him and laid back down, studying the man next to her.

The office didn't have the oversized windows like the other rooms in the house. The sunlight that came in was sparse but it was enough to catch the coppery highlights in his dark hair, making it appear more red than dark brown. Her eyes traveled down to his face to find those blue eyes staring at her and that all too familiar embarrassment came over her again. "I'm sorry."

"For what?"

She bit her lip. "Last night."

He closed his eyes and rubbed his forehead with the back of his hand. "Hm, yes. Last night. What do you want?"

His question held no annoyance, just genuine curiosity. Her palm automatically went to her scar, pressing against the horrible mark. "I don't want to be afraid anymore."

"Everyone's afraid of something, Leese." He still had his eyes closed and she wondered if he was falling asleep again given the lazy way he was speaking. "You have to find a way to overcome that fear. I can't do it for you."

"I know." She moved slightly closer to him, her leg brushing up against his. "What are you afraid of?"

He was quiet for so long that she assumed he had fallen asleep but then his eyes opened, fixed on some spot on the ceiling. "Losing things."

She felt tears pricking at the back of her eyes. _Losing things._ She knew he didn't mean "things" as objects but rather people. And from what she had gleaned about his past, he had plenty of experience at losing things. His parents, Sara, Joel and Kaylee. They were just the ones that she knew about. How many more friends and colleagues had he lost that she didn't know about? "Is there a way to get over that fear?"

His eyes slowly released their hold on the ceiling and shifted to her. She tried not to shift under his intense study of her face despite the fact she could feel the tingling heat of embarrassment creep up her neck and into her cheeks. He moved and she thought he was going to come closer to her, kiss her even, when he turned away and she realized he was getting up. The feeling of alarm surprised her and she started to sit up as well but Jackson was already out of the bed and shutting the bathroom door. His lack of answer actually solved a major dilemma for her wonderment of how he felt towards her. He was afraid of losing her which meant he had come to care for her just as she had for him.

Lisa got up as well, made the bed for him when she heard the shower turn on and went upstairs to take her own shower. When she was dressed and ready to face Jackson again, she couldn't find him. The door to the office was shut and she thought it odd that he had closed himself off from her but figured he needed solitude. She grabbed her coat and the rest of her winter gear, jotted a quick note that she was going for a walk and headed outside. Perhaps getting out in the brisk air would clear her head and help prepare her for her dealings with Jackson.

* * *

He was cracking, he could feel it. Cabin fever. Nervous breakdown. Anxiety disorder. Whatever you wanted to call it, Jackson felt himself coming mentally and emotionally unwound and Lisa kept tugging on the fraying ends of his nerves. She wanted comfort, physical closeness and he wanted to give it to her but how to do it without scaring her was the problem. All he had to do was stare at her too closely and that panicky look entered her eyes. There were only so many cold showers a man could take it.

Anger was starting to bubble beneath the frustration now. After everything he had done for her, threw his job and livelihood away to keep her protected, gave up his own safety and security to have her close to him and she still didn't trust him. He was right back in that airplane lavatory, thumb running over her scar and her eyes telling him that he was no different than the man who had marked her in some god forsaken parking lot. He slammed his fist against the tile of the shower and was satisfied to hear it crack under the force.

She was destroying him and didn't even seem to realize it.

He stepped out of the shower, dried off and found himself staring at the mirror. He was shocked at his appearance, not having seen himself like this in a long time. No longer were there circles underneath his eyes from lack of sleep and stress. Being on various jobs, a healthy diet wasn't always top priority and he tended to take on an almost jaundiced type coloring but not now. He looked healthy and despite the beatings he had taken, strong. His anger and frustration were evident in the set of his jaw but other than that, he looked relaxed, happy even. Maybe Lisa wasn't destroying him, but rebuilding him. He actually smiled at the thought…Jackson: Under Construction.

Something dripped onto his foot and he looked down to find red droplets were scattered on the floor as well. His hand. Sure enough, he had split his knuckles when he punched the shower wall. He rinsed his hand off in the sink and wrapped gauze around it before wiping up the blood from the floor. He was surprised at how the tension he was feeling seemed spent now. He got dressed and glanced in the mirror again. Lisa had asked him what he was afraid of and he had told her. He challenged her to face her fear and how he couldn't help her with that, knowing full well he was telling himself the same thing. He needed to face his fear head on as well. He just needed to figure out how he was going to do this though.

He stepped out of the office just in time to hear the front door close. Was Lisa going out on her own? That was a first. He went into the kitchen and found her hastily scrawled note: Out on a walk. Looking out the window he saw her walking slowly towards the tree line, most likely retracing their steps out to the meadow. That should give him a half hour, at least. He knew another chance like this wasn't going to come again. Taking a deep breath, he passed through the living room and went up the stairs.

His heart felt like it was beating out of his chest as he stood on the landing, facing three doors: the main bathroom, master bedroom and spare bedroom. He started in the master bedroom, fighting his erratic breathing. If he didn't get a hold of himself he was going to have a full blown panic attack. He sat down on the end of the bed. The room no longer smelled like Sara and her scented soaps, oils and perfumes. No more lavender, jasmine and rose, those floral scents that she always seemed to be drawn to that made his nose itch until he had gotten used to it. No, it smelled like Lisa now, sharp and stingingly clean. Eucalyptus and mint, herbal scents replacing the floral ones.

His eyes scanned the wall fixture in front of him with the various cubicles, each one housing something that had been precious to him and Sara. There were the other two wooden boxes that his picture box belonged with, each one with a wood inlaid flower on the top. He had taken the rose since that had been Sara's favorite but left the lily and iris one on the shelf. There were various other things that caught his eye, vases he had given her that had been filled with flowers, decorative boxes her mother had given her and little glass figures of animals. But what was the hardest thing to look at were the empty spaces…where pictures had been before he purged the house.

He didn't have much time, he wasn't sure when Lisa would be back and the hardest part wasn't over yet. Taking another steadying breath, he slowly made his way across the hall and hesitantly opened the door to Joel's room. His chest constricted so tightly he was afraid he was having a heart attack. He coughed a couple times, trying to get his lungs able to breathe again and stepped into the room. Nothing had been changed in the nursery. The last time Joel had been there he was still sleeping in the crib. Seeing the cheery color of the walls, the bright furniture, rocking chair that he had slept in for three nights straight when Joel had colic, the blanket still draped over the side of the crib, it seemed impossible to think that the child was gone. He was nothing more than the dust that was floating on the sunbeams and his father's memory.

Jackson felt like he was going to be sick. His stomach rolled and he clapped a hand over his mouth to stifle the strangled sob that ripped itself from his chest. Despite his extensive efforts to make sure he never became what his father had been, he had managed it anyway. His father was a sadistic murderer who failed his wife and son. How was Jackson any different?

"_So what do you do?" _

"_Government overthrows, flashy high-profile assassinations, the usual." _

It didn't matter that he could count on one hand the people that he had personally killed but the number he had indirectly killed was much greater. The blood was still on his hands. He hadn't been like his father in that aspect…he had become better than his father. More efficient without becoming involved in the nitty gritty of the job. He failed protecting his wife and son from the dangers of idiots. He was on the ground, not sure how he got there, dry retching into the brightly colored braided rug.

He had to get out of there. He couldn't handle it anymore, even with his face buried in the floor the smells were too much…baby powder and innocence. He tried to claw his way out into the hall but he couldn't, his arms were shaking too bad. He couldn't breathe, only gasp and not only were his arms shaking but they were tingling, his legs too. With no way to get out of the room, he collapsed on the floor and hoped when he was able to breath again, the pain would be gone.

* * *

Lisa returned about an hour later, fully expecting Jackson to have made the traditional pot of coffee and start a fire. But when she went into the kitchen, her note was unmoved, the coffee pot off and there was no fire in the living room. The house was strangely silent and an uneasy feeling settled in her stomach. She took off her coat, hat and gloves, leaving them draped over a chair in the kitchen. When she walked through the living room, she saw the office door was open so he had to be somewhere.

"Jackson?"

Nothing. She checked the mud room but all of his things were still there so he wasn't outside. The only place left was upstairs. The entire time they had been there she never saw him venture up the stairs and that unpleasant feeling only increased. She slowly climbed the stairs, trying to prepare herself for whatever it was that awaited her. She didn't remember being this scared when she was running from him in her father's house.

"Jackson?"

A slight shifting sound came from Joel's room and Lisa went there first. Jackson was sitting on the floor just inside of the door, his back against the wall and his head in his hands. Lisa knelt down next to him and put a hand on his shoulder. "Jackson?"

"I feel sick."

All their talk about fear this morning, she realized, was what pushed him up the stairs. Losing things, he had said. Losing loved ones…losing your humanity, losing your mind. There were so many to lose and Jackson Rippner had lost them all it seemed. But whatever is lost can be found. Lisa wrapped her arms around him and felt him shudder violently.

"Come on," she stood up and tried to pull him up but he was shaky and off balance. His skin was pale and clammy and she wondered if he had passed out or was going to pass out. Either way, she had to get him someplace to lay down. She didn't trust either one of them to go down the stairs so she steered him into her bedroom. He didn't fight her at all when she pulled the quilt back, took off his shoes and directed him to lay down. He looked like a man destroyed and she hoped it wasn't anything that she had done to put him in this state. She sat on the edge of the bed and pushed his longish hair back from his washed out face. "What happened?"

He looked at her but not really. He was looking through her, at something else, something that she couldn't see. Something she wasn't sure she wanted to see. "I'm just like him."

"Who?"

His face went slack and she was afraid he passed out but his mouth twisted into a snarl. "My father."

His father…Lisa searched her memories for the conversation she had with Remy back in New Orleans. That had been ten months ago…almost a year had passed. She could still feel the plastic beads in her hand, the beads that Jackson had thrown to her. She mentally shook herself and brought up what Remy had told her about his father. Remy had said that Jackson's father was basically a hired serial killer for the Agency. She remembered the account of how a fourteen year old Jackson was driven to murder by the torture and death of his classmate.

"Jackson, you're nothing like your father."

He gave her a half hearted grunt.

"You don't enjoy it like he did. You don't take pleasure out of it." She fought the urge to smack him. "Don't you realize the state you're in right now? You think your father would have felt this much remorse?"

"I…I don't know anymore."

It would be a low blow but hopefully it would bring him back to his senses. "Do you think I'm weak?"

A strangled laugh made it's way out of him. "What do you think?"

"You think I'm like your mother? Too weak to stand up to a sadistic son of a bitch like your father?"

At first, she thought she had pushed him too far as his eyes went blank. But then he blinked, his eyes focused and that wild light she was used to seeing behind them came back. He pushed himself up and leaned back against the headboard, exhaustion etched on his face despite the mid morning hour. Lisa released a relieved sigh as he looked around the room.

"This was much harder than I thought," he said quietly.

"What was?"

"Coming up here, to this house. To these rooms."

"But you did it."

He gave half a shrug. "Not very well."

Lisa shifted closer to him. "Not all of us can get it right on the first try."

He looked at her with confusion melting into understanding and finally with slight suspicion.

Lisa reached out and took his hand in her own, noticing the bandage wrapped around his knuckles. "What happened?"

She couldn't believe it but he actually blushed. "It's, uh, nothing."

"It doesn't look like nothing."

He sat up from the headboard, bringing his face close to hers. She knew it was test, just like the other two or three times he had initiated a kiss. He always gave her a chance to back out of the physical interaction. He was never pushy, always gentle with her and she needed to trust him…fully. So she was the one that closed the space between them and kissed him. The angle she was on was pulling uncomfortably on her back muscles so she moved to a more comfortable position, she straddled his lap with a knee on each side of his hips. Jackson broke the kiss, his face registering surprise at her forwardness.

"Leese?"

She held his face in her hands, her thumbs rubbing circles over the proof he hadn't shaved that morning. "I love you."

The air rushed out of his lungs and he tried to turn away from her but she kept hold of his face. Finally, he swallowed forcibly. "I don't…think I can…I just…"

Lisa allowed herself a pleased smile. She had just rendered Jackson Rippner speechless. She was never one to watch someone flounder for long and she leaned in, kissing him again. She pulled back slightly, resting her forehead against his. "Show me then."

And with that permission, the Jackson from last night returned to her. The Jackson that could speak with his insatiable lips and gentle, exploring hands. It was the Jackson that loved her too.


	18. Tis the Season

**Traveling Mercies**

**Chapter Eighteen: Tis the Season**

She didn't think it was possible but just as she grew dependant of Jackson's steady breathing to help her sleep, she was starting to crave feeling him pressed against her when she woke up. She never thought she could ever let a man that close to her and yet, every morning for the last two weeks, she woke up to early morning light flooding the bedroom and Jackson's arms around her, his steady breath on her neck. Except for this morning, his side of the bed was oddly empty, the sheets and blankets cold. His absence made her feel vulnerable.

"Jackson?"

"Yeah?"

She turned around and saw him stepping out of the bathroom, hair damp and pulling a shirt over his head. She released the breath she had been holding. "Just wondering where you went."

He gave her a cocky grin. "Aw, did you miss me?"

Lisa threw a pillow at him which he caught one handed and lobbed it back at her.

"I have to go into the city today," he announced.

"Can't I come?"

He looked regretful as he sat down on the side of the bed. "No, I have to go by myself."

Lisa didn't like the sounds of this. "You're coming back, right?"

"Of course I am." He gave her a suspicious look. "Why wouldn't I?"

She groaned, hating how needy she sounded. She hit him with the pillow at close range. "Look what you've turned me into," she half laughed. "Thinking I won't be able to function without you."

"I wouldn't worry about that, Leese. But I will be gone for most of the day. You know where all the guns are and there is a security system that I'll arm when I leave. Not that you would need it with the way you shoot."

Suddenly her questioning didn't seem so needy to her. She was losing that protective feeling that he offered with just his presence. How long had it been since she had been alone, truly by herself alone? Being alone would do her good then. "When do you have to leave?"

He looked down at his watch, ironically the same one he had worn on the red eye. "About fifteen minutes."

"Oh good," Lisa leaned towards him and kissed him on the cheek.

He reached out towards her with a leer. "Good, huh? Why good?"

She disentangled herself from the blankets and danced out of his reach. "That means you can make some coffee before you go." She heard him let out an exasperated noise before she shut the door to the bathroom. She was hoping her shower and getting dressed wouldn't take that long but by the time she made it downstairs, Jackson was gone. He had left her a brief note next to a full coffee pot.

_I'll be back around four with guests. There's Christmas decorations in the closet in the mud room if you get bored. -J_

Christmas? Lisa poured herself a cup of coffee and wondered how Thanksgiving had slipped by without her noticing. Taking her coffee into the office, which she realized had ceased being Jackson's room, she sat down at the computer. Sure enough the date in the corner of the desktop told her it was December 22nd. She wondered what her Dad was doing this Christmas. The last email she received from him, he told her all about her mom's new boyfriend so she was fairly certain that her parents were spending the holidays apart. She started to feel badly for her father, sitting alone in his house on Christmas.

After she wrote him a long email about Maine, snow, practicing her shooting (which he would definitely approve of) and what she was going to do with her day, she decided to indulge in her curiosity since Jackson wasn't around. True, she and Jackson had torn down many of the barriers that stood between them but he still held tightly to Joel. She opened the door to the nursery and walked around the small room, touching the quilt in the crib, spinning the mobile and opening the closet that held a dresser filled with tiny clothes.

She walked towards the center of the room and the floorboards protested loudly. She rocked back and forth over the floorboards, the memory of Kaylee's hiding spot in the farm house coming back to her. She flipped the braided rug back and ran her hands over the floorboards. Sure enough, one of them gave under her prying fingers and she lifted it from the floor. The space underneath it wasn't very large but it was full of manila envelopes.

She opened one of the large envelopes and found it full of pictures and negatives. After replacing the floorboard and rug, she took her findings downstairs and spread them out on the kitchen table. They were all pictures of Jackson, Sara and Joel. A few of them were of a couple people she didn't recognize but figured it was Sara's family. She set aside a few nice photos, like one of Sara and Joel in the snow and one of Jackson and Sara on a sail boat in aquamarine water. She would have to make an excuse to go into town so she could pick up some nice picture frames for the photos. The ones of Sara would be acceptable but she could frame some of Joel and keep a hold on them until Jackson would accept them.

Looking at the clock, she saw it was going on one now and she still hadn't even drug out the decorations yet. She quickly gathered up the photos, putting the extra ones back in their hiding space and the ones she was going to frame in the outside pocket of her empty suitcase. She had to admit, it felt nice to see her clothes hanging in a closet again and even nicer to see Jackson's clothes hanging next to hers. She gave one of his dress shirts a tug of appreciation before closing the door and heading downstairs to start on the decorations.

* * *

Jackson waited beside the Jeep Cherokee at the curb. Remy had sent him a text saying he and Joe were on their way out of the baggage claim. Remy was incredibly easy to pick out with his black cowboy hat and boisterous voice complaining about the cold. Joe Reisert was following close behind, scanning the crowd most likely for her daughter. He hoped Remy had worked his charm on the older man, taking the edge of hostility off of the encounter that was coming. Remy greeted him with a celebratory embrace.

"You're looking much better than the last time I saw ya!"

Jackson grinned. "I'm feeling better than the last time you saw me."

Remy gave him a knowing look. "I bet you are."

"Rippner."

Jackson extended his hand, attempting to get things off on the right foot. The last time he saw the man, he had gotten shot. "Mr. Reisert."

The older man ignored Jackson's hand. "Where's my daughter?"

"Back at my cabin." He tried to emphasize the fact that Joe was on his turf now. He could be civil but that didn't mean he had to be polite. He wondered if seeing Lisa happy and healthy would subdue the aggression between Joe and himself. Remy had the back of the Jeep open and tossed his duffle bag in, swinging Joe's suitcase in there as well. Jackson took that as a positive sign that at least Joe trusted Remy. Jackson slid behind the wheel, Joe taking the passenger's seat and Remy stretching out in the backseat, putting his hat over his face.

"You boys place nice, now," Remy said. "I need to catch some shut eye."

Jackson had pulled out into traffic and was leaving the city behind him when Joe started asking questions.

"How's Lisa?"

"She's doing well. I don't think she's keen on all the snow but she's happy."

"What makes you think she's happy?"

Jackson felt his jaw tighten and ran through a list of things that he could say to Joe: _she smiles constantly, I've heard her laugh more in the last two weeks than in the entire eight weeks I followed her, she falls asleep and wakes up in my arms._ A small smile tugged at his lips. _She lets me make love to her, more than once, despite her violent past. _But he settled on the simplest answer. "She trusts me."

"And that makes you feel good? Convincing a hostage that she trusts you?"

"She's not my hostage, Mr. Reisert."

"Not anymore. You've have her brainwashed now."

Remy erupted in a laugh from the backseat. "Have you ever met your daughter, Joe? I guarantee that's why the Mormons and Jehovah Witnesses steer clear of knocking on her door. She's got a mind of her own and she speaks it."

"Remy's right," Jackson backed up. "Lisa's too strong willed to be controlled. If she didn't want to be around me, then she would have been gone by now."

"I hope you realize," Joe stated, "I have every intention of taking her back to Miami with me when I leave."

"I know." Jackson's good mood faltered. It was what he secretly hoped and feared at the same time. Lisa deserved more than being shut away from civilization because of his lifestyle. As much as he had grown to love her, and he would readily admit that he loved her despite his inability to say the words to her directly, he wanted what was best for her. She knew how to defend herself now. She had Declan and Remy in her corner if anything should happen. She was ready to start her life over again and be able to live it in comfort and normalcy. That was the one thing that Jackson wasn't going to fight Joe on, if he could convince Lisa to go home with him then he would let her go.

Besides, it was time for him to stop running too.

* * *

Lisa had gotten most of the decorations up by the time she heard the front door open and Remy's boisterous voice filling the kitchen. Guests. She should had figured it was going to be Remy and Declan. Before she even made it into the kitchen, Remy had found her.

"Well, aren't you just prettier than I remember!"

"Down boy!" Jackson's voice carried from the kitchen.

"That's right, gentlemen."

Lisa's heart almost stopped at the sound of the third voice. It wasn't Declan. She stepped out of the mess of lights she had been trying to untangle and made a beeline for the kitchen. She almost ran into her father.

"That's my daughter you're talking about."

She couldn't believe it but there he stood, wide grin on his face and arms open, which she practically fell into. "Dad."

"How are you, sweetie?"

She stepped back and wiped the tears from her eyes. "I'm fine." She turned to Jackson. "Did you do this?"

Jackson pulled a couple of beers from the refrigerator and passed one to Remy. "All I did was ask. Rem, what do you say we hang some outside lights and give Lisa and her Dad some catch up time?"

"I ain't going back out in that cold, no sir."

Lisa tried to stifle her grin at Jackson's very serious face.

"Remy, get the lights."

She heard the Cajun leave the room, muttering something in French that she was sure she didn't want to know the meaning of. Lisa waited until she heard the back door shut before hugging her father again. "I can't believe you're here!"

"Leese, we can leave whenever you want."

She thought for certain that she had heard him wrong but judging from the look on his face, pinched and worried, she wondered if she had heard him correctly. "Leave?"

"Yes, leave. If you want, I can get us out here."

"No, Dad-"

"All I have to do is call the police, Leese. I remember how we got here."

"Police? No, Dad, no police. I don't want to leave."

"It's okay," he tried to soothe her, she could tell by the tone of his voice. "I won't let him hurt you. We can get out of this."

The reunion wasn't going as she had originally hoped it would when she first saw her father standing in the kitchen. "I don't want to 'get out of this.' Jackson hasn't hurt me, at all. I'm here because I want to be."

"Of course you are, dear."

"Don't patronize me." Real anger, something she hadn't felt in a while she realized with a shock, rose in her. "This is why I left Miami in the first place. You always telling me what I'm thinking without ever listening to me, Dad. For the first time in years I'm happy. I'm not giving that up to return to what passed as a life."

Her father grabbed a hold of her shoulder and gave her a gentle shake. "Lisa, listen to yourself. That man has you brain washed into thinking that you belong here, stuck away in some god forsaken wilderness, away from your family and dependant on only him. This all points to Stockholm Syndrome."

She rolled her eyes. "I wondered how long it would take to work that into the conversation. It's not Stockholm Syndrome or brainwashing or anything of the sort. Jackson has spent all his time doing nothing but protecting me and teaching me how to protect myself. He's given me tools that I never had before, like connections, survival information and the person I was before the rape."

Joe loosened his hold on Lisa. "What are you saying, Leese?"

Lisa took a steadying breath. "I'm saying I love him and I'm not going anywhere."

"Okay," Joe relented. "Okay, Leese. If that's what you want."

She knew it wasn't the end of the discussion and braced herself for her father's entire stay to be made up a private moments of him trying to convince her to go back home with him. Well, she wasn't Daddy's little girl anymore. She had become her own woman during her cross country trip and once she had grown comfortable with that, she allowed herself to become Jackson's woman because Jackson only required her to be herself. Something that she now realized her father never allowed.

She always had to be something to please him: captain of the field hockey team, junior regional champion in figure skating, hotel manager at an absurdly young age. No more. Her father may see her new found freedom as a hostage situation but she had a few days to show him that was far from the case. She would make sure when he left after Christmas, he would have the correct picture of just what she and Jackson had carved out for themselves in the frozen Maine wilderness.


	19. Song of Songs

**Author's Notes: **Hey all! So sorry for the long wait! Once again...life...yay. Anyway, just a huge thanks to everyone once again! You guys all rock and just are a constant encouragement. So, thank you! Also, I added lyrics at the end of the chapter. I heard this song the other day and was like "that's so perfect!" so I included the lyrics for all to enjoy. I don't know if anyone else does this, but I actually have a playlist for my stories of songs that listen to for certain chapters or even just scenes. I was thinking of posting the playlist when I finish the story but *shrugs* I don't know. Anywhoo...on with the story!!

**Traveling Mercies**

**Chapter Nineteen: Song of Songs**

"Are you sure about this, bud?"

Jackson and Remy were standing in front of the cabin admiring their not so great Christmas decorating skills. Jackson tried to shove his numb hands even further into the coat pockets.

"Sure about what?" he asked the Cajun. "The lights?"

"No, bro. Letting the old man talk Lisa into going back with him."

That's what he thought Remy meant. "I don't know. Maybe he's right and Lisa is brainwashed into thinking this is where she belongs."

"Once more, have ya met the woman? I don't think ya can brainwash her. Besides, I saw the way she looked at ya when we all got back. She's not brainwashed." Remy gave Jackson's shoulder a nudge. "She's in love."

Jackson snorted. "Love."

"Yeah, okay. Ya keep that attitude up and she will go back to Miami."

Good, he thought. Maybe that's what he'll do then, just keep drawing back from her. She would get hurt, her pride would be bruised but she would return to a normal life. It was better for them all around.

"Ya ever hear that song 'Love is always better the second time around?'"

Jackson flashed his friend a smirk though it felt forced. "You ever hear the saying 'Once bitten, twice shy.'"

"To quote one of the greatest minds of our time, a Miss Kaylee Fisher, 'Jackson, you're a moron.'"

He couldn't help but smile at that. He would give anything to have Kaylee here with them now. He would gladly listen to her call him a moron and anything else she wished just because she would be alive. He wondered how Declan was doing. Jackson had extended an invitation to him but Declan had declined, citing business was being conducted over the holidays.

"Listen to me, bud."

"Oh, what fountains of wisdom are you going to spout now?"

Remy tried to look indignant but all he looked was cold. "Some important ones so shut the hell up. I made mistakes with Kaylee and she made mistakes with me. A ranch and a hotel are worthless when ya compare it to being happy. Sara made ya happy and ya've just been handed the golden ticket: a second chance with Lisa. Don't blow it." Remy lowered his voice but Jackson could still catch the quaver in it. "If you don't cash that in with Lisa for yourself, then do it for the rest of us who wish we had a second chance."

* * *

Lisa and her Dad had made dinner together and she wasn't sure if she could take his help cleaning up the dishes. Thankfully, months of being together in close quarters, Jackson must have picked up on her uneasiness and placed himself in close proximity to her. She didn't know how he did it, but he also got Remy to get her Dad interested in a football game while she and Jackson took care of the dishes. She couldn't believe the relief she felt having just Jackson beside her again.

"Breathe, Leese. Relax."

She let out a shaky laugh. "Sorry."

"Are things going well with your Dad?"

She shrugged. "I guess. He's just so used to me doing whatever he thinks is right. God forbid I have a differing opinion."

"He might be right though."

"What? You don't even know what we talked about."

Jackson sighed as he shut the dishwasher and turned it on. "He spoke about it to me on the ride here."

"He wants me to go back to Miami with him. Did he tell you that?"

"Yes, he did."

Lisa balled up the dish towel and tossed it onto the counter instead of using it to throttle Jackson and her father. "Well, I'm not going."

"I'm just saying you should think about it, Leese. There's more of a life for you back there then here, then what I can offer you."

Lisa couldn't believe what he was saying. "You want me to leave."

He leaned against the counter and sighed. "I want what's best for you and if it means leaving and going back to your life, then yes."

Lisa was caught between crying and pitching a raving fit. "What's best for you, Jackson?" Surprisingly, the question seemed to bring him up short. She gave him a couple minutes to answer but when he didn't, she gave up. "I'm going to bed."

* * *

Jackson waited until he heard the familiar shut of their bedroom door. Hm…their bedroom. He had enjoyed thinking of the house as theirs and knew he didn't want to give that up. Ever. He groaned loudly and pulled another beer out of the refrigerator. It wasn't even Christmas Eve yet and he had barely made it through half a day with Lisa's father in the house.

"What did you say to her?"

Jackson swallowed the mouthful of the alcohol, wishing for something stronger, before turning around to see Joe standing in front of him, arms crossed. Jackson could see Remy, still on the couch, over Joe's shoulder, paying careful attention to what was going on in the kitchen. "Oh, you know, the typical horrible things that I always say to her."

Joe's face flickered with a mix of emotions, not sure whether to take him seriously or not. "Like what things?"

Jackson looked up at the ceiling. "Like how I want her to be happy and if that means going back to Miami then she should do it. How she has her whole life ahead of her and shouldn't spend it holed up with me." He fixed his gaze back on Joe. "I guess I'm just a terrible person."

"You are."

"Thanks, Joe."

"You need to understand something. The last time I saw you, you were pulling my daughter off the floor by her hair. The next time I had to hear your name you had taken her from her home and she was returned to me in a hospital bed. So forgive me for not jumping up and down in happiness at the thought of you being the one that supposedly is making Lisa happy."

Jackson hated to admit it but the man had a point. He was just starting to forgive himself for what he had put Lisa through and now having it thrown at him in a clipped manner and realizing what lay before them if she chose to stay with him, everything felt like it was beginning to unravel. "You're right, Joe. I did put your daughter through hell but guess what, she returned the favor and I have the scars the prove it."

"I want to know what happened that changed your attitude and hers."

He prided himself on always having an answer for every question that he was asked but he didn't have one. The truth was, he had been asking himself that question for the last two weeks. "I don't know, Joe. I can't say when the change happened."

"That's cause the 'change' never just happens. It's gradual," Remy said, meandering into the kitchen. "I thought I would just check on ya two since there's kitchen knives in here."

"Do you love her?" Joe asked suddenly.

Leave it to a father to make that question sound like an accusation. Well, if anyone was going to hear that confession, it would be Lisa. Taking one last swallow of beer, he set the bottle down on the counter and made a beeline for the stairs. He barely registered Remy chucking and saying, "I'd take that as a yes. Better get used to it, Pops."

* * *

Lisa stood under the warm rush of water for longer than she ever had since she first stepped foot in the cabin. She couldn't figure out what happened today. She was afraid it was due to her lack of social interaction though she doubted that was the case. She had enough social interactions at the Lux to last her a lifetime. And it wasn't like she and Jackson just sat around and didn't say anything to each other. They had some very interesting discussion on politics (a subject he was extremely pessimistic about), classic books and what made them classics. They had even discussed religion on a snowy afternoon.

So if it wasn't her inability to be social, and she was certain she wasn't suffering from any mental illness, it was simply her stepping out of her role as Daddy's little girl into a full grown woman. And it only took her twenty-seven years to do it. She turned the water off, hoping that she hadn't used all the hot water for the other four men in the house that might want a hot shower, and grabbed her towel. She had left her pajamas in the bedroom and wrapped herself up in the large bath towel.

This was the closest thing to an argument that she and Jackson had engaged in since they left Vancouver so she wasn't sure what to expect from him. When she stepped out of the steamy bathroom and into the bedroom, she was slightly surprised to see him sitting on the bed and felt her face flush in embarrassment at her state of undress. Not that she logically had anything to be embarrassed about, he had already studied ever freckle on her. She chalked it up to the fact that they had a disagreement and her father was downstairs. Throwing caution to the wind, she dropped the towel and pulled her clothes on, waiting for Jackson to say or do anything. Nothing.

"Jackson?"

"I'm sorry."

Lisa fought down a smile as she settled next to him on the side of the bed. "And to what do I owe the infamous Rippner apology to?"

"To me being a jerk."

She allowed a smile to blossom. "It's been a while since you've been one. I guess you're forgiven." He didn't say anything in response and seriousness came back to her. "What's really going on?"

He sighed deeply, clasping his hands until his knuckles were white. Lisa reached over and laid her hand on top of his but he abruptly stood up and left the room. She didn't know whether to chase after him or leave him be for the time. She decided to crawl into bed and wait to see what would happen. He knew where she was. No sooner did she pull back the quilt to climb into the bed than the door swung open again. She stood there patiently and waited for Jackson to say something. When he did, it was short and clipped but the emotion behind it unmistakable.

"I love you."

She bit the inside of her cheek to keep from smiling at the admission. "Is that what this is about?"

He looked momentarily confused. "Yes."

She climbed into bed and resettled the quilt. "Shut the door, Jackson."

It was everything she could do to not laugh hysterically at the role reversal. He silently shut the door the with a soft click before making his way across the bedroom in unsure, almost lurching steps until he stood beside her side of the bed. Lisa stared up at him for a few seconds, the hilarity of the situation quickly receding. His face was tense, his expression pinched with worry and his eyes looked turbulent. She reached up and grabbed the sleeve of his shirt, tugging him down towards the bed which he tiredly sat down on once more. Once he was on eye level with her, she brushed some of his hair back from his face, forcing him to look at her.

"I love you, too," she stated simply. "But don't think that I didn't know that already. You've already shown me that you love me, with these," she ran her fingers lightly over his closed eyelids. "And these," her fingers continued their trail across his lips, "and these," she ended with lacing her fingers through his. "If there is one important lesson you taught me it's that words are useless. We both found that out on the red eye flight. Threats, platitudes, coercions…they didn't save the Keefe's the first time. It was action that did that. I don't need to hear the words. I already know that you love me."

He was staring down at their intertwined fingers. "When did you know?"

It was a good question, one that she had think about. "Well, I suppose it happened in stages. When I boarded that private jet in Scottsdale I did it because I didn't want you to face whatever was going to happen alone. Then the two months in Vancouver you started to calm down, I guess is the right wording. The cross country car ride was actually fun. So I would say by the time we came here, I knew. When did you know?"

"Two weeks into my surveillance."

Nothing could have prepared her for his answer. "What?"

"That was why I asked Remy to come and take over for me so I could catch up on some rest. But when he got there, I didn't want him watching you. I didn't want anyone else watching you in your unguarded moments. I had come to feel like they were mine and only mine. We got into a huge fight the third day he was there. He didn't understand why I couldn't just step back and then he asked if I had become attached."

Lisa found it difficult to swallow, realizing her heart was in her throat. "What did you say?"

He laughed slightly. "I didn't say anything. I broke his nose. I can still see him resetting it in the hotel bathroom and washing the blood down the sink. He just stepped out of the bathroom, picked up his bag and told me if I was smart I would talk to Declan about getting out of the profession and then go buy you a Sea Breeze."

She forced down a surprised gasp. So that explained why he got so upset over her ordering the Bay Breeze in the Houston airport. "If that was the case, why all the anger and attempts to kill me?"

His grip tightened, almost painfully, on her hands. "Because I hated you for evoking feelings that I felt for Sara. Feelings I thought I had left at her graveside."

"Get rid of me, get rid of the emotions."

"Exactly."

"Well," she pulled at his hands and his eyes finally lifted to her face, "fat chance on that."

And then an immense change happened. His face relaxed completely and a small smile found it's way onto his lips. "So, when all this crap blows over and the Agency gives up looking for us and, I don't know," he sighed, his eyes looked up at the open beams above them, "I happened to ask you about getting married, you might be inclined to say yes?"

Lisa tried to hide the jittery excitement that filled her arms but she could feel them tremble in her limbs. "I might."

He pulled one of his hands free and placed it along side her cheek. "One day."

"One day," she repeated, turning her head and kissing his palm. She pulled herself up to her knees and kissed him on the lips. She didn't fight him when he pulled her into his lap and deepened the kiss. She unloosed her hands and set to work on the buttons on his shirt, tugging it off his shoulders. When her fingers slipped under the T-shirt he was wearing, he drew back with a gasp. Lisa rubbed her hands together. "Too cold?"

Jackson was out of breath, his pupils dilated and leaving just a slice of blue around black. "Your dad," he gasped out.

Lisa glanced over at the closed door before trailing kisses along his jaw line. "What about him?"

He swallowed audibly. "He's downstairs, Leese."

She smiled against his neck. "Well, he's not in here. What's the problem?"

"I would like to remain intact, if you catch my meaning. I didn't exactly hide the knives."

Lisa sat back. "Let me tell you something about my Dad, he's mostly bark and no bite."

"I don't think I'm willing to take that risk."

"Really?" She smiled coyly and pulled her sweatshirt off, dropping it on the floor next to the bed. Before she could move, Jackson had his arms wrapped around her and she was on her back staring up at him, his weight comfortable against her.

"However," he said sagely, "some things are worth the risk."

_Come into these arms again  
and lay your body down  
The rhythm of this trembling heart  
is beating like a drum  
It beats for you it bleeds for you  
it knows not how it sounds  
For it is the drum of drums  
it is the song of songs _

_Let me be the only one  
to keep you from the cold  
Now the floor of heaven is laid  
the stars are bright as gold  
They shine for you they shine for you  
they burn for all to see  
Come into these arms again  
and set this spirit free _

_~Love Song for a Vampire, Annie Lennox_


	20. Full Circle

**Author's Note: **So sorry for the delay! I hope this will make up for my horrible lack in writing. I actually had my in-laws come for Thanksgiving this year and it was just too terribly busy for me to do anything! Please accept my humble apologies…

**Traveling Mercies**

**Chapter Twenty: Full Circle**

Lisa was thankful for the quiet time she had, sitting in the Jeep and waiting for it to warm up. Her Dad and Remy's visit to the cabin was coming to an end, Christmas had been yesterday and Jackson had her puzzled. She had been asked to drive the two guests to the airport, courtesy of the GPS her father gave her as a Christmas gift. His reasoning was so she would always know how to get home. Her response had been very short but confident: she was home. She had come to realize that home wasn't a city or a house but rather a state of mind, a state of mind that she had with Jackson.

Jackson...she shook her head in confusion. Even Remy noticed a slight change in Jackson's behavior. The entire time that Remy and her dad had been with them, Jackson put up with the snappish comments from her dad, sometimes, when he lost his temper, coming back with some of his own. The hostility level in the room always increased when the two men were present, the air becoming charged with distrust and disbelief at the situation. But as of this morning, Jackson seemed resigned to something. The waspish comments didn't get a flicker of retaliation from him. And now that she was thinking about it, he was acting strangely last night as well.

She had woken up in the middle of the night, his side of the bed strangely empty. When she rolled over, she found him sitting on the floor, a lamp sitting next to him as he looked through the pictures she had framed and given him that morning. She had been nervous about giving him those pieces of his past but he had taken them with a quiet, sad acceptance. He seemed more appreciative of her finding the pictures under the nursery floor for him. She had framed pictures of Joel but hung them up in the nursery so when he was ready, he would find them.

"Jackson?" she had called in a whisper.

He had given her a slight smile, the shadows of night throwing his face into odd shadows. "I didn't wake you up, did I?"

She had shaken her head and stretched her muscles, her toes coming into contact with the cold sheets on his side of the bed. "Aren't you cold?"

He had responded by turning off the light and the sudden darkness had momentarily blinded her. She heard him pad across the wood floor and felt the bed give as he crawled under the blankets. She had fully expected him to just hold her and they would both fall asleep but she heard him moving around and when he came into contact with her hands, all she felt was skin. Before she could have asked anything, he sealed his lips over hers. It had been unlike any other time they had made love. She could feel the purpose of each touch, each kiss. It was as if he had been focused on memorizing every inch of her. When she had tried to take some control, he had quietly stilled her hands and continued his private mission.

As enjoyable as it had been, so much so she could still feel her limbs tingle just from the memory, something bothered her about the entire event. Added to his mellow attitude this morning, she knew something was wrong but she couldn't figure it out for the life of her. The door to the cabin opened and she popped the latch on the back of the Jeep before climbing out of the now warm car. She kept her focus on Jackson, who still had that detached look in his eyes as Remy and her Dad loaded their suitcases into the back of the car. She stood by the idling car as her father gave Jackson a brief nod before climbing into the front seat of the car. Remy gave Jackson his customary hug before stretching out in the back seat of the Jeep. It left just her and Jackson.

"I'll see you in a few hours, then."

He nodded. "Yeah. Be careful driving back, they're calling for some snow. Not much, but make sure the Jeep is in four wheel drive."

She couldn't stop herself and she reached for him, wrapping her arms around his neck. She probably wouldn't have hugged him if she didn't have a sense of something being terribly off. "Are you okay?" she whispered.

"Yes. Fine."

But she could tell he wasn't. "You said you never lie."

He sighed, the puff of hot air warming her ear. "Just be careful."

"I love you."

He released her and looked her right the eye. "I love you, too. You better get going."

She reluctantly let go of him and went back to the Jeep, sliding behind the wheel. She watched Jackson climb the steps to the porch. "Something's wrong, Remy."

"Ya got your gun, Petite?"

Lisa glanced into her purse, the silver handle of the BERSA was visible next to her wallet. The gun had been Jackson's gift to her, a compact weapon that she could carry with her at all times. It was a beautiful piece. "Yes, I do."

"Keep it close, then," was Remy's response. "Jackson can take care of himself."

"Remy's right, sweetheart," her father assured her. "I wouldn't worry too much."

Lisa put the car in reverse and turned the them around, heading out of the long, winding driveway. She kept her eyes on the rear view mirror, staring at Jackson until he disappeared into the cabin. She couldn't shake the feeling like she was blind and trying to hear from which direction the disaster was going to strike.

* * *

He found the footprints last night. He hadn't planned on doing a perimeter walk but common sense got the better of him and at midnight, Jackson had layered up and headed out into the woods. He couldn't believe it when he had found them. One set around the property, shuffled up places where surveillance equipment had been set up, and one set that led back to a set of tire marks. He knew all it would take would be one visit out here. The Agency found him, finally, and they would be back to finish the job.

Well, at least they had made it through Christmas day and Remy and Joe were headed out in the morning to catch their flights. It would be fairly easy to keep blinds drawn and he could have Lisa drive them to the airport. He would make sure they only had a clear shot of him. Finally, an end would be in sight for him. No more running and hiding. He had gained what he wanted now: his humanity. Lisa had given it back to him by the illogical but undeniable love that she had for him. He hoped that the Agency would let Lisa go once he was dead. Declan could plead her case and it wouldn't take much for her to be left alone. There was no one else he would give up his life for except for Lisa.

However, he didn't want to die. He was happy, like he had been with Sara. With Joel. He didn't sleep at all after coming in from the cold last night. Instead, he pulled a lamp from one of the bedside tables and looked through the pictures that Lisa had framed for him. It wasn't so much that he wanted to remember Sara, odds were he would see her soon enough, it was more of wanting to feel the emotion of contentment. He thought about the time Lisa had spent going through the pictures, hand selecting which ones that she thought he would appreciate. That meant just as much as the pictures themselves.

Then Lisa woke up and he couldn't help himself. He didn't want to alert her to anything that had happened, she was almost too observant that way, but seeing her half asleep and stretching like a cat in their bed, he had to say his own good-bye to her. After he had done everything he could possible think of to express how much he appreciated her, he watched her sleep until the early morning light crept through the windows of the bedroom. He drug himself from the warm bed, dressed and headed downstairs, pulling shades and starting coffee. He tried to blend in the background as bags were packed and everyone was caught up with their own travel preparations. By the time she was standing next to the Jeep, Joe and Remy ready to go, he knew she knew something was wrong.

He tried to give her a cryptic warning, be careful, without raising too many alarms. When she embraced him, he tried not to hold on to her too tightly or too long. He did take the opportunity to slip the small box, her real Christmas gift, into her coat pocket. He hoped she would understand the significance of the gift, that she would know exactly what she had given back to him. He watched her get in the car, a perplexed look on her face, and slowly climbed the steps to the front door. When he turned around the car was already half way down the driveway and he continued to watch it just in case the sniper decided to go after those in the car. Thankfully, the Jeep disappeared between the snow covered evergreens without any damage coming to it or its passengers.

It was eerily quiet in the cabin. With a resigned air, he went to every window and opened the blinds or curtains that had covered them. He wasn't sure if the sniper was out in the woods now or wouldn't be there until night fell. He sincerely hoped that wouldn't be the case. He didn't want Lisa brought into this feud. Of course, the idea of her coming back to the cabin and finding him dead wasn't exactly how he wanted things either but he hoped the sniper would be long gone by then. He wasn't sure where to go in the house now. He wasn't keen on standing in front of the large picture window in the dining room all day waiting for a bullet so he went about the normal routine that he had settled into the last few weeks.

* * *

"You've been awfully quiet, Leese."

Lisa glanced in the backseat, seeing that Remy had his hat resting over his face which meant he was sleeping, before responding to her father. "I know. I'm just worried, that's all."

"I'm worried too."

That surprised her. "About Jackson?"

"No," her Dad responded shortly. "About you. I still can't help but think that he's convinced you that you need him."

"I do need him, Dad."

"Leese-"

"I'm not having this conversation with you," she bit out the words, putting as much conviction as she possible could behind each syllable. "I love him."

"And that's what worries me."

Lisa pulled up to the curb for departures and put the Jeep in park. "Well, you're free to worry."

"Thank you." He gave her a slight smile, a genuine one and she felt a slight burden lift from her. He didn't like her choice of...what was Jackson, a boyfriend? Lover? Significant other or all of the above? Either way, that one small, resigned smile told her that he may disagree with her choices at the moment but she was still his daughter. It was enough for her.

"Remy," she turned around and slapped his knee, "time to fly."

The Cajun groaned dramatically and righted his hat. "When I get back home, I gotta get me one of these cars. And a pretty girl to drive me around in it."

Lisa snorted. "What? So you can sleep in the backseat all day?"

"There's worse things, Petite," he said before climbing out and opening up the back to pull out their suitcases.

"I like him," her Dad said shortly.

"Dad, I'm not leaving Jackson."

He opened the passenger side door. "Well, it was worth a shot."

Lisa rolled her eyes as she got out of the car to say her good byes. Remy gave her a warm hug, much like the ones she had seen him give Jackson.

"Ya still worried about him, Petite?"

Lisa stepped back when he released her. "Yes, I am."

"Ya got your cell phone, right?"

Lisa reached into her coat pocket to pull out the said phone but her cold fingers brushed something else. It felt like a velvet covered box. She tried to hide her surprise and she found the phone next to the mysterious box. "Yes, I do."

"Well, give him a call. You'll feel better." He gave her wink and then leaned over, giving her a kiss on each cheek. Before he stepped away, he whispered, "Welcome to the family." Then he turned towards her father, "Grab a drink at the gate, Joe?"

"Sure," her father nodded and Remy picked up his bag and headed into the terminal. "There's nothing I can say to convince you to come back to Miami?"

"Nothing, Dad."

He pulled her into a hug. "I love you, sweetheart."

"I love you too." Lisa stiffened, a sudden realization slammed to the forefront of her mind so hard her skull hurt. Jackson's actions over the past twelve hours suddenly made horrifying sense. The ardent love making last night, his distance from everyone this morning, even his last words to her before she left because that was what they had been...his last words. He had been saying his good bye to her. Lisa pushed herself out of her father's embrace. "I have to go."

"Leese?"

She ripped open the driver's side door, climbed in and slammed the door shut. "I'll call you later, Dad."

"Leese, what's going on?"

She didn't wait for an opportunity for a break in traffic, she took it much like she had after that red eye flight. Instead, she was speeding from her father in a desperate attempt to get to Jackson. She didn't think that he would just leave to move on someplace else. He had practically proposed to her a few days ago. No, this was going to be a permanent good bye and she couldn't seem to get out of the city and back to the cabin fast enough. She was forced to stop at a red light, stuck in a line of cars waiting to get out of the city when she remembered the velvet box in her pocket. She pulled it out and stared at it for a moment. It was too large for it to be a ring, and too wide for a bracelet. She opened it and found the sunlight glinting off a pendant that was a circle of diamonds. There was a small note tucked in the lid of the box, written in Jackson's now familiar handwriting.

_Thank you for bringing me full circle._

She snapped the box shut and tried to keep her mind on being safe, pushing the speed limit when she could and trying to get her mind off of what might greet her at the cabin. Her cell phone rang ever five minutes but she didn't dare answer it, too afraid of who might be calling and why. The sleepy town of Washburn was never such a welcome sight for her and she crept through it at the speed limit of 35 miles per hour. But she scanned every face, every car looking for something or someone out of place. Nothing. She picked up speed as she headed down the familiar back roads that led her home.

A few yards from the driveway of the cabin, a pure white Ford pick up was parked off to the side of the road. Snow had been rubbed across the license plate, a deliberate attempt at hiding the plate number. Instinct told her that this was the danger as she pulled behind the truck and cut the engine. The truck wasn't running and it appeared to be empty. She still grabbed her BERSA, slid the safety off of it, and opened the Jeep's door, shutting it as quietly as possible. She stayed crouched low and slowly stood up to look inside the bed of the truck and finally the cab. Both were complete empty.

She found a set of footprints leading off into the woods in the direction of the cabin. She pulled her coat closer to her, thankful for the white down that would add some element of camouflage for her. She followed the footprints, stepping directly into them with care. She used trees for cover and never walked blindly around a bend in the trail. After twenty cold minutes of following the trail, she was rewarded with seeing the culprit.

She saw the sniper rifle first as the shooter was dressed head to toe in white. He was lying flat on the ground, lining up the rifle. Lisa looked through the trees and sure enough, there was the cabin. Her hands were shaking but she reminded herself that this was no different than the man she killed in front of her father's house. This person was going to take someone from her that she loved, someone that may deserve to die but was on his way to being redeemed. She took a steadying breath, willed her hands to stop shaking and raised the gun. She counted heartbeats until her heart rate decelerated and she aimed at the fur that lined the hood of the coat.

_This man is going to kill Jackson...this man is a murderer..._she kept chanting that over and over in her mind. When the shooter's finger finally slipped against the trigger, Lisa knew it was time. She inhaled once more, pressed her lips together in a thin line and squeezed the trigger. The gunshot sounded especially loud to her but then she heard the shattering of glass and realized the sniper pulled his trigger at the same time. She glanced down at the shooter, thinking she might have missed him but the mess of red, steaming liquid that was scattered across the white snow and clothes told her what she needed to know. She had been dead on, literally, with her shot.

The sight and coppery smell of blood turned her stomach and she fought the urge to throw up as she stumbled through the woods towards the cabin. She had to stop once, the intake of cold air and the severity of what she just did too much to take at a dead run. That brief pause was all her stomach needed to eject its contents. She hastily wiped her mouth with the back of her gloved hand and continued through the woods. She prayed that Jackson was safe, that as soon as she stepped from the tree line that he would come out and greet her. That he would investigate the two gunshots in the woods, keeping her protected at all costs. But when she stepped into the clearing and sprinted around the frozen pond, Jackson never appeared. She screamed his name and rattled the locked front door to no avail. Jackson never came. Lisa drew back the gun and broke the glass in the front door with the handle of the BERSA, the words from Jackson's last note running through her mind.

_Thank you for bringing me full circle. _

***

He ended up in the nursery. After wood that would never be burned was chopped and stacked, dishes that would never be used put in the dishwasher and cleaned did he find his feet taking him up the stairs and into the nursery. He opened the door with a deliberate slowness and was immediately surprised at the wall of photographs that greeted him. Framed in pastel washed woods, pictures of Joel, Sara and himself greeted him. Another part to Lisa's gift to him.

He walked over to the one closest to him, a picture of Joel and Sara at the Washington DC zoo. You could barely make out the curled up black and white ball of panda bear in the background of the photo but Joel has been squealing with delight at the giant "teddy bear" that he and Sara could barely keep a hold on the squirming two year old. Jackson trailed his fingers over both of their faces and didn't feel the stab of pain that he normally did when he saw a picture of his son.

"See you soon, buddy."

He was getting ready to re-hang the picture when the window exploded next to him. He instinctually jumped back, a reaction completely done with the adrenaline rush. He looked down at the photo again and saw a fine spray of red droplets scattered on the glass. That wasn't right. He started to wipe the blood off of the picture frame but his knees gave out and he hit the floor with a bone jarring thud. His fingers felt like they were buzzing and he couldn't hold onto the picture frame anymore. He heard it drop dully to the floor and he looked down at his shirt.

It was so red. He didn't remember bleeding this much when Lisa and her father had shot him. Did the sniper hit his heart? No, he would have bled out before now if it had been a heart shot. How long had it been since he was shot? He couldn't remember, his mind was flickering through images like a television with bad static. He needed to lay down. He tried to move but found the scratchy wool braided rug against his cheek. Oh, he was laying down. He was so tired, so he closed his eyes. Absently, he wondered who he would see when he opened them again. Sara? Joel? Maybe Kaylee?

He thought he heard Lisa's voice calling his name. What was she doing here? Did the sniper get her before she even made it to Washburn? He heard more glass breaking and Lisa's voice was getting louder. Well, it was most likely his imagination anyway, a desperate hope to see her one more time before he died. He resigned himself to that fact and gave over to the blessed darkness.


	21. Clench Your Fist

**Traveling Mercies**

**Chapter Twenty-One: Clench Your Fist**

_Let me wrap myself around you  
Let you show me how I see  
And when you come back in from nowhere  
Do you ever think of me?  
Your heart is not able  
Let me show you how much I care  
I need those eyes to tide me over  
I'll take your picture when I go  
It gives me strength and gives me patience  
But I'll never let you know  
I got nothing on you baby  
But I always said I try  
Let me show you how much I care  
Cause sometimes it gets hard  
And don't she know  
Don't give the ghost up just clench your fist  
You should have known by now you were on my list  
Don't give the ghost up just clench your fist  
You should have known by now you were on my list  
Don't give the ghost up just clench your fist  
You should have known by now you were wrong (on my list)  
When your heart is not able  
And your prayers they're not fables  
Let me show you (let me show you)  
Let me show you (let me show you)  
Let me show you how much I care_

_~My List, by the Killers_

Lisa almost broke down the door trying to get through it. The glass crunched under her feet as she scrambled through the entrance, still screaming for Jackson. The kitchen and dining area were empty and she ran through the living room, in and out of the mud room and office. She took two steps at a time and by the time she reached the top landing, she could see him on the nursery floor. Her head reeled from the same coppery smell that assaulted her nose in the woods and her stomach lurched horribly. When she knelt down next to him, her knees sunk into the carpet and a warm wetness soaked through her jeans. Blood...there was blood everywhere.

She kept repeating his name, trying to get some other reaction from him other than his labored, wheezy breathing. She tried to unbutton his shirt but her hands were shaking so badly she ended up just ripping it open. Almost all of his chest was red. She needed to clean some of the blood away so she could see the wound. She ripped off her down coat, sweater and finally, long sleeved t-shirt. Balling the cotton shirt up, she let the bright red liquid slowly stain the white fabric. It didn't take long for her to find the bullet wound and her vision swam. It had been a heart shot. She pushed the t-shirt against the wound, trying to slow down the bleeding, while she wrestled her cell phone out of her coat pocket.

"Lisa!"

The voice startled her that she momentarily forgot to answer back. Apparently, she didn't have to as Remy's familiar figure came bounding up the stairs. She couldn't force words out of her mouth so she just stared at him helplessly. His eyes seemed to take in the entire scene and she saw the level headed manager personality take over him as he pulled out his cell phone.

"Did you call 911 yet?"

She shook her head.

"Good." He dropped down next to her and lifted the makeshift compress before replacing it again. The person he had called picked up but Lisa didn't recognize the voice until Remy said the name. "Declan, it's Remy. We need medical assistance immediately. You still have your team here, right? It's Jackson, looks to be a heart shot but how long it's taken him to bleed out could mean it's only a nick." He paused. "Yeah, we'll need some blood." And he snapped the phone shut.

Lisa sat back on heels and took one of Jackson's hands, pressing it between her two blood slick ones. "How-" she couldn't speak. Most likely she had screamed herself hoarse but Remy understood.

"I kept calling ya cell phone and ya weren't answering. I told your Dad to go ahead, that I would check on ya and catch a later flight."

"Did he leave?"

Remy jerked his head over his shoulder and Lisa noticed her father standing in the doorway of room. She couldn't tell if she was relieved, happy or angry at his presence. Truthfully, she would have preferred Remy be present for her confession. Well, it didn't matter now, not with Jackson bleeding to death under their hands.

"I killed the sniper."

Remy's bright blue eyes, not as bright as Jackson's though, snapped up to hers. "Ya did?"

She nodded mutely.

"Where is he?"

"Out in the woods," she croaked. "You can follow my tracks."

Remy turned to her father and motioned him over. "Keep pressure on the wound until help arrives. They won't be blaring sirens, so don't listen for 'em. I'll go take care of the sniper."

Remy was gone and replaced by her father. She watched his wide hands cover the entire compress as he pushed down on it. Jackson groaned, his hand clenching briefly at Lisa's. She looked over at her father who had lessened the pressure again.

"Do that again, Dad."

He did and Jackson's eye lids fluttered slightly as another groan escaped his throat. He didn't wake up but he moved. Her dad counted to sixty before applying the excess pressure while Lisa tried to talk to him with her hoarse voice. She didn't hear the medical help arrive until someone pushed her aside to get to Jackson. She crawled back and felt her father's strong hands picking her up, propping her up in the corner of the room. His coat fell heavy on her bare shoulders and the scent of Aspen and snow covered the blood smell. There were a total of five, regularly dressed people that were swarming around Jackson. Numbers were being thrown around but she couldn't comprehend what they were or their significance. All she kept replaying in her mind was the note.

_Thank you for bringing me full circle. _

He had said it as a good bye, letting her know he was at peace with himself now. A flash of anger came over her suddenly and she felt like walking over to him, pushing people aside and slapping him.

Hard.

Her dad's hand squeezed her shoulder. "Leese?"

Her breathing was so fueled by her anger she was boarding on hyperventilating. Just as quickly as it came, the anger left and tears blocked her view of Jackson. "Doesn't he know circles never end."

* * *

Three days.

Seventy-two hours.

That was how long Jackson had been unconscious. Unfortunately, the clock was still running and he was showing no signs of waking up. The medical staff that had showed up on Declan's say so was efficient, friendly and of course, on the Agency's payroll. More importantly, they were on Declan and Vicky's payroll. They had claimed that Lisa's gunshot startled the sniper just enough for the lethal shot to miss Jackson's heart by millimeters. It had nicked his heart, which caused the significant blood loss. They took blood from her and Remy, looking for a blood match but neither one of them matched. Thankfully, one of the doctors there was a match and once they had exhausted their blood supply, the doctor kindly allowed them to use his blood for the rest of the transfusion. They assured her that his vitals were strong and now it was a waiting game as to when he would wake up.

All five of the medics continued to stay at the cabin, having brought their own vehicles and supplies to take care of Jackson. Lisa had been surprised to find an RV sitting outside the cabin but that didn't prepare her for the shock of seeing the inside of the vehicle. It was practically a ICU on wheels. It ran off of generators but it supported the all the necessary equipment to keep someone alive, no matter how serious their condition. It was such a relief to see the breathing and feeding tube apparatus sitting forlornly in the corner.

She spent most of her time in the RV, folded up on an empty shelf as there was no room for a chair, watching and waiting. There was one nurse, Mia, that had tried to strike up conversations with Lisa but Lisa wasn't up to talking. She saved her voice and strength for Jackson. She talked to him, told him stories from her childhood through college. She explained field hockey to him, the purpose of the particular stick that she had used and threatened to have her father mail it to her so she could beat him with it again if he didn't wake up soon. She read to him when she ran out of stories of her own. She tried his taste in books, authors like David McCullough and John Grisham, but when that didn't work she tried Dr. Phil to no avail.

She had thankfully convinced her father to return to Miami yesterday. His attitude towards Jackson had changed from outright hostile to a bristling wariness. The medics told her that her father had saved him, something that brought about mixed emotions in her usually stoic father. By putting pressure on and off the wound, it kept Jackson from falling into a coma. Of course, Lisa had been eternally grateful to her father for doing that, but his claim was that he had done it more for her than for Jackson. Apparently, her less than controlled reaction to Jackson's possible death had proved the bond between them to her father. He still wasn't happy but he was accepting of it now. In fact, he called last night with a promise to call tonight to check on Jackson's progress.

Remy had stayed behind, staunchly watching over Jackson when Lisa needed sleep. The fun loving Cajun had turned so serious that she hardly recognized him. He would smile at her and try to keep up pleasant conversations but his tension was almost tangible. He had left that morning to go to the airport. Declan was coming in to spend some time with them, and to oversee the work of his personal medical team. The door to the RV opened, cold air and snow making their way in with the slight frame of Mia. The young woman shut the door tightly, blew on her cold hands and starting checking over Jackson's vitals.

"He's doing very well, Lisa," the short brunette assured her.

"Any sign as to when he'll wake up?"

Mia looked down at the clipboard. "My best guess would be sometime in the next forty-eight hours."

Lisa swallowed. "And if he doesn't?"

"Well," Mia gave her a shaky smile, "we'll just cross that bridge when we come to it."

Lisa watched Mia go through the routine that she herself could probably do by now. Check pulse, blood pressure, temperature, change IV bag and check the bandage.

"Are you hungry, Lisa?"

"No, thank you."

Mia had finished her routine but as was custom, she tried to converse with Lisa. "I really think you should eat something. It's been since yesterday."

She wasn't hungry now and hadn't been since she found Jackson on the floor of the nursery. Her stomach just twisted and turned for the last three days. The thought of food only caused a gag reflex but she tried to be polite to Mia. "I know. I'll eat something a little later."

Mia shifted on her feet slightly. "Well, just make sure you eat something soon, okay?"

Lisa nodded absently, suddenly curious for the nurse's insistence on her eating something. She was about to ask her why so much concern but the door opened again and Declan and Remy entered the RV. Declan gave her a warm smile before turning his attention to Jackson.

"How is he, Mia?"

"He's doing well, Mr. O'Malley. Vitals are strong, he seems to be healing at a healthy rate."

"The stubborn ass won't wake up though," Remy said, his tone colored with both humor and worry.

Declan sighed, his eyes narrowing slightly. "He always was stubborn. Why should now be any different?"

Lisa stood up from her cramped position across from them. "Mia said he should wake up in the next two days."

"Two days?" Declan turned to Mia, who nodded in agreement. "Better count on three," Declan smiled brightly. "Jackson always had a flare for the dramatic. How are you, Lisa?"

She didn't know the honest answer to that question so she answered with a simple "Fine."

Remy coughed slightly. "Why don't ya'll get something to eat and some rest? I'll sit out here with him."

"That's a wonderful idea," Declan said, making his way back to the door. "I wanted to speak with Lisa for a moment anyway."

Lisa grabbed her coat and quietly put it on. She had the feeling Declan wasn't going to take any excuses for her backing out of the invitation. At least Mia looked pleased that she was going to eat something.

Remy tugged on her sleeve as she passed. "Don't talk about me behind my back."

Lisa thought he was being serious but instead smacked him upside the head like she used to do to Ben. Remy laughed slightly, in a better mood than she had seen him in the last few days. She left with a friendly pat on his shoulder and hoped he understood how much she appreciated his support and friendship over the last few days. She stepped out of the RV and into a snow storm. Fine but numerous flakes of snow were raining down on them, adding more layers on top of the feet that was already on the ground. Declan was waiting for her.

"How are you really doing, Lisa?"

She shrugged in her down coat. "I'm exhausted, even after I sleep. I can't eat anything. It just makes me sick. I'm worried and scared."

Declan put a fatherly arm around her shoulders. "You don't need to be scared of anything Lisa. Not with all of us here now. We're not going to let anything happen to you."

"I'm not worried about my safety. I'm scared of," her throat swelled with tears, "of losing him."

"It doesn't look like that's going to happen. My staff is always honest, they don't put much stock in bedside manners like you would find in the typical hospitals. They would have pulled out by now if Jackson was a lost case."

It gave her hope, something that she had been too afraid to take from the doctor's and nurses reassurances to her. Maybe things would work out for them after all. She could tell from Declan's slow steps that there was more he wanted to discuss so she wasn't surprised when he started speaking again.

"Remy tells me that you and Jackson have gotten close."

She smiled wistfully at the thoughts that comment brought to her mind. How she missed seeing his eyes and feeling his hands on her. Her fingers went to the diamond necklace that he had given her. "Yes, we have."

"This might not be my place to say but I need to know. Jackson's like a son to me and I've had to stand back and watch him self destruct on more than one occasion. I won't see it happen again."

She wasn't sure where this was going but she nodded. "I understand."

Declan removed his arm from her shoulder. "Remy told me that Jackson made a comment to him about wanting to marry you."

Not that she needed the reassurance of Jackson's feelings, but the admission still brought a smile to her face. "Yes, I know. We've briefly discussed it."

"Briefly?"

"He told me it's something that he would like to happen after the Agency gives up looking for us. That it's too dangerous to have a piece of paper floating around where anyone can get a hold of it and trace us."

"That's very true." Declan shoved his hands into his coat pockets, most likely trying to keep them warm. "If I told you that the day was coming where the Agency was going to leave you and Jackson alone, would you accept his proposal?"

"Shouldn't I be telling him yes instead of you?"

Declan burst out in deep laugh. "Remy is right, you are perfect for Jackson."

* * *

Wasn't there supposed to be a white light, something other than just blackness? Shouldn't there be someone to tell him where to go? What happened the all the angles, or in his case, demons that were suppose to come for you and guide you? Or perhaps this was suppose to his own personal hell. He was to spend the rest of eternity sitting in the dark, being confused. He had expected more from death and the afterlife. More bells and whistles, so to speak.

It was quite disappointing, honestly. He wondered why he couldn't see anything. He tried blinking a few times, the feeling of sandpaper rubbing over his eyes quickly stopped that and kept his eyes closed. Curiosity got the better of him after a while and he tried opening his eyes again. That was when he saw the white light. It glimmered and sparkled, almost blinding him. That was more like it.

"Jackson?"

He felt someone touch his arm. The voice sounded fuzzy, he couldn't be sure who it was, just that it was female. His mouth was so dry. "Sara?" Another hand, a warm palm, pressed against the side of his face. It felt so nice and he leaned into it.

"No, it's Lisa."

Lisa? That light was still blinding him and he couldn't see anything. Lisa shouldn't be here. "You're not dead." His voice sounded raspy, like when he was recovering from the pen injury. He wondered if she heard him and realized she must have because a different voice, from his other side responded.

"Well neither are you, dumb ass."

Remy? Wait. That meant he wasn't dead. So what was that blinding light if it wasn't the afterlife? He reached out blindly towards it. Something moved slightly under his fingertips and the sparkling immediately stopped. He was holding the circle pendant of diamonds that he had given Lisa for Christmas. His arm felt heavy and he dropped it back down onto the bed. He was so tired and he had just woken up. "What happened?"

"Ya were shot, bro," Remy answered. "It would have been a fatal heart shot if Lisa hadn't shot the sniper. Startled him at the last split second and the bullet nicked your heart. Lost a lot of blood. Ya've been out for about five days now."

"I'm in a hospital?"

"Declan called in his med team," Lisa answered. "We're still in Maine, at your cabin."

He was getting really drowsy now and Lisa's warm presence and gentle touches on his face and neck weren't helping his state of wakefulness. He had lived, that was all that mattered. He could fall back asleep and know that he would wake up again. He had faced his own death, spared by Lisa's bravery and apparently, excellent timing. It was a second chance if he had ever heard of one. He summoned up enough strength to lift his hand and find Lisa's. He didn't remember her fingers being so slim but it was unmistakably her hand.

"I'm going to go back to sleep."

He heard her laugh quietly next to him. "Just don't sleep for another five days."

He felt so calm now, a true sense of peace. He grinned. "I'll try to keep it down to three this time."

* * *

**Author's Note: **See! Everyone can breathe a sigh of relief now! Jackson's going to be okay! I'm sorry I worried everyone! I hate to make the announcement but the story is coming to a close. I'm guesstimating another three chapters before it is all said and done but Lisa and Jackson may have something else in mind for me. I do work off an outline but I always listen to my characters as well if they want to deviate from the outline. So anyway, I just wanted you all to know that the end is in sight and hang tight! All your support and hard work reading and reviewing is coming to a conclusion...hopefully, a satisfactory one.

You all have been such a blessing to me through this! You are so greatly appreciated! Thank you!


	22. Unexpected Developments

**Traveling Mercies**

**Chapter Twenty-Two: Unexpected Developments**

It took an entire month for Jackson to be able to walk on his own and he didn't ever remember being so happy to see the inside of the cabin again. Mia, the nurse, and one of the doctors, Simon, had stayed behind to make sure his recovery continued on the right path. As much as he wanted the place back to just him and Lisa, he was grateful for the full house as Lisa seemed to come down with flu. Simon was worried about Jackson catching it and moved him downstairs on the pull out couch. Every time he heard any sound from the upstairs, he couldn't help but try to get up to investigate. Remy and Declan took turns climbing the stairs to check on Lisa, every time they would return with a "she's fine."

Finally, three days into waiting for her to feel better, he couldn't take being stuck on the couch. With Remy out getting more firewood and Declan conversing with Simon in the kitchen, Jackson slowly made his way up the stairs. He paused at the top, looking in the nursery. Remy must have replaced the window and thrown out the blood stained rug. The picture of Joel he had been holding when he was shot had been cleaned was hanging on the wall once more. The sound of Lisa retching pulled him out of his reverie of the nursery and into the master bathroom.

She was sitting on the floor, half draped over the bath tub, no doubt resting from her latest vomiting spell. He knew if he sat down on the floor he wouldn't be able to get up again and from the exhausted stance of Lisa, she wouldn't be much help either. So he settled for sitting on the edge of the tub. Lisa's head turned in his direction when he sat down and she rested a clammy cheek on his leg while he placed a hand on her head.

"How are you feeling, Leese?"

She emitted a half hearted grunt. "How are you doing?"

"Better each day, which is more than what I can say for you."

"Mia took a vial of blood from me this morning."

That didn't sound good. "What for?"

"I don't know. I thought you were her, coming in to tell me what is was all about."

"I hate to disappoint you."

She smiled weakly. "No, no disappointment. I've missed you."

"I've missed you too."

"There you are," Mia stood in the doorway of the bathroom. "I found him, Mr. O'Malley!"

Jackson let out a dramatic whimper. "We were so close to escape, Leese!"

Thankfully, she laughed slightly and sat up, pulling her disheveled hair back out of her face. "You know they would have shot us going over the wall."

Mia helped Lisa off the floor with a grin of her own. "We're not that bad. Jackson, Declan wanted to speak with you for a moment. And I need to talk to Lisa."

Jackson pushed himself up from the side of the tub and straightened his back. He was starting to get used to being hunched to keep tension off the muscles that were damaged in his chest. It still hurt to walk straight but seeing Lisa washed out and weak was the drive he needed to get himself back to one hundred percent. He started back down the stairs and saw Remy, most likely coming up to get him. The Cajun had a huge grin on his face.

"Uh-oh."

Remy rubbed his hands together. "Uh-oh, what? This is gonna be great!"

Jackson followed his easily excitable friend into the dining room where Declan was sitting, speaking into his cell phone.

"Yeah, he just walked in. I'll tell him. Good bye." Declan closed his phone and set it down on the table. "Vicky says hi and she's glad that you're doing better."

Jackson slid into the chair next to Declan and Remy sat down across from Jackson. "How's she doing?"

"Well, very well." Declan smiled broadly, very similar to Remy's previous grin. "She's retiring."

"Retiring?" Jackson gave them both a skeptical look. "Isn't that a bad thing in this business?"

"Not anymore," Declan answered. "Remember that business I had to attend to over Christmas? Well, it was the only time that the entire panel could meet, that week before Christmas. We were discussing a new order of operations. The panel worked well enough but we were finding we each had our personal loyalties to clients and operatives. We had already stumbled across some...touchy issues stemming from such involvements so a new chain of command was decided on and is about to implemented."

Jackson refused to let his hopes get up. "What's the new chain like?"

Declan smiled. "Ingenious, I believe. The panel settled on one candidate to run the entire operation. Of course, the person must met certain requirements, such as experience, connections and his personal belief in the work that the Agency carries out. Once that person is chosen, then he hand picks his own 'cabinet' so to speak."

"Basically, you've set up the controllers of the Agency like the Presidential office?"

"Exactly," Declan confirmed. "Only when the Director, which is what we're calling the position, is ready to step down, he or she then hand picks the replacement, which would bring in an entirely new cabinet. It will keep the leadership fresh and still be able to use the vast network of connections that we hold in the world. I believe it is a very good move."

Remy was practically bouncing in his chair. "Tell him who the new Director is."

Jackson watched his mentor's face carefully and understood when the older man just shrugged. "You're the new Director."

"Yes, I am. Which means," Declan leaned forward, "I now have the authority to call off the manhunt on you and Lisa. Of course, there's going to be many people who are going to be opposed to this and may try to take matter's in their own hands. From what Vicky was telling me, that is how the sniper found you out here. We think he was hired by someone on the panel but we don't know who."

Remy snorted. "Hunter Reynolds, I'd put my money on it."

Declan gave a half nod. "But we can't be sure."

Jackson crossed his arms and immediately winced. "So basically, nothing is going to change for Lisa and me? We're still going to be looking over our shoulders."

"For now," Declan acquiesced. "But once the Agency sees I'm not willing to put up with any bullshit, you and Lisa should be safe enough to come back out in the open."

So that was it. He had spent most of life watching things he cared about slip away or be violently ripped from his hands. Now, as fate would have it, life was handing him some of those things back. He didn't know if he should grab a hold of them immediately and hang on for dear life or if he should back away nice and slow before it all was taken from him again.

"Jackson," Declan gave him a serious look, "I want you on my cabinet, when I'm certain it's safe for you to resurface."

"What do you want me to do?"

"Be a diplomat. No unsavory jobs, I promise. You can travel if you want or stay Stateside but I want you to keep up with the communications with clients." Declan laughed. "You could sell an orange grove to an Eskimo, son. I need someone with that kind of charisma."

It sounded so good. Too good. And he didn't know what to do with it. Thankfully, Declan must have seen his struggles and clapped him on his good shoulder.

"Take some time to think about it. Talk it over with Lisa and let me know."

Lisa...That brought another matter to mind. "Declan, when could Lisa and I get married without it being used against us?"

"Anytime now. I can make sure the paperwork stays out of the wrong hands."

Jackson stood up from the table just as Mia was coming into the kitchen. "Lisa wants to talk to you," she said with a big grin. With all the good news that had just been thrown into his lap, he was skeptical about talking to Lisa. What if the blood work Mia had done showed something serious like cancer? What if she wanted him out of Agency business completely? It would seem appropriate in the way his life had unfolded that he was about to lose everything but the huge grin that was on Mia's face just didn't jive with ill news. As he walked out of the kitchen, he heard Remy call after him.

"Can I plan the reception, bud?"

Jackson turned around, peering around the door frame. "Uh...no."

He climbed the stairs a little more slowly than earlier, fatigue and dread pulling at him. He paused at the bedroom door that was shut and listened closely to any sounds on the other side. He heard sheets and blankets being rearranged...Lisa coughed slightly but he heard the sniffle and threw the door open. Just as he feared, she was sitting up in bed with tears running down her face. Her eyes widened, most likely in surprise at his sudden entrance.

"What's wrong?"

She waved him over. "It's good news, don't worry."

The air whooshed out of his lungs in wary relief and he shut the door behind him. He sat down next to her on the bed and she halfway climbed into his lap careful of his still healing wound. Before he could ask her what the good news was, she kissed him and any thoughts he had at the moment vanished. It was such a blessed relief to feel her lips against his and her soft skin beneath his fingers.

"Leese," he murmured against her mouth.

"Hm?" She started trailing kisses down his neck.

"As nice as this is," he swallowed loudly, "I can't do much more than sit here."

She leaned back slightly and smiled wryly. "I know. I'm getting kind of dizzy anyway. Mia said you were going to have some good news yourself."

"You go first."

She bit her lip and shook her head. "No, you."

He resigned himself to her stubborn streak and told her what was discussed at the dining table. She listened intently, thoughtfully. Repeating everything that Declan had said to him made the decision for him: he would do it. No more working for various clients with asinine demands. He only hoped Lisa would be okay with the decision. "What do you think?"

"You would hand pick the jobs from clients?"

"Yes. Declan would have the ultimate say, of course, but I trust his judgment. He would never support the loss of innocent life, only those who deserve it."

She was quiet for a moment. "Do you want to do this?"

"Yes."

Lisa nodded. "Then that's what you should do."

The relief he felt was enormous but he quickly shoved it aside. "So what's your news?"

Her smile was huge, giving some coloring back to her washed out face. "When Mia first took a vial of blood from me it was to see I was a match for you if you needed more blood. Well, she noticed an elevated level of hormones in the blood but it wasn't anything that out of the ordinary. She and Simon are getting ready to leave within in the next day or two and she wanted to double check the hormone level in my blood before they left."

"And?"

"And my blood work came back with a higher level of hormones than the first vial which means..."

And just when he thought life couldn't hand him anything else as it had given him his life, Lisa, certain safety once Declan started his directorship and a job, it gave him one more thing.

"I'm pregnant."

* * *

Hunter Reynolds hated the cold weather. He had grown up in Albany and had seen enough of single digit temperatures and snow to make his trip to Washburn, Maine far from pleasant. He had received a call from the brother of the girl sitting across from him in the beatnik coffee shop. He had drug the sixteen year old girl half way across the country, alternating between threating and playing mind games with her. He forgot how fun it was to play with a young and impressionable mind. Her family would be paying therapy bills until she was a senior citizen.

The merry little cluster of bells rang as the door to the shop opened and he watched with sadistic glee as the girl shuddered at the sound. He saw her tall brother make his way over to the table, his face red from the cold and thunderous. He bypassed Hunter, which was fine, and knelt down next to his sister.

"Katie, are you alright?"

Hunter had warned her about crying and making a scene in the coffee shop. She remembered and pulled herself up, straight backed and proper.

"Yes, Simon, I'm fine."

Simon Rutger looked less than convinced but let it go. "What do you want to know, Mr. Reynolds?"

"How are my good friends Jackson and Lisa?"

"Fine. May my sister and I go home now?"

"Oh, don't be like that," Hunter said easily. "Sit down, have a latte. Katie's in no rush, are you sweetheart?"

She shook her head a little too quickly but Simon dropped into the chair next to his sister's, keeping his arm protectively around her. "Jackson is healing up from the sniper's shot very well. He should be about eighty percent better by Valentine's Day and a hundred percent by spring."

"And Miss Reisert? Or is it Mrs. Rippner now?"

Simon shifted uncomfortably in the wooden chair. "They signed the marriage certificate last night."

"Ah, that's sweet. I heard she had the flu."

"She's...pregnant."

Hunter frowned into his coffee cup. "Doesn't take Rippner long to do anything, does it? And their house guests? O'Malley and LeFever?"

"O'Malley is heading back to Arizona this afternoon and LeFever decided to stick around for a couple days more until Lisa was up and on her feet again." Simon leaned across the table. "I don't understand why you wanted me to heal him if all you want is Rippner dead?"

"Simon, let me ask you something. What is the game in hunting a wounded animal? There is none. I assure you, the occupants in that cabin will live happily for a while and when all the wounds are healed and complacency returns, I will strike. Now," Hunter pulled out the local newspaper that was still running an update on the lack of identity of the man found half frozen in the stream that ran through town, "take your sister and leave."

The young doctor and frightened teenager quickly left the coffee shop and Hunter smiled behind the paper. The yokels couldn't find anything on the dead man and chalked it up to an unfortunate hiker who died from hypothermia. Hunter had never met the sniper he hired to take out Jackson and Lisa so returning the body to a family was a moot point. He finished his coffee, left a decent tip on the scarred wood table and headed out to his Land Rover. He would wait, out of sight, as O'Malley gathered his cabinet and went to work overhauling the Agency, the Agency that Hunter's father had built from the ground. He would wait until Rippner felt safe enough to show himself in public again and he would make good on his promise to Simon Rutger. The waiting didn't bother him in the least.

Hunter Reynolds was an extremely patient man.

* * *

Okay folks...that's the end! I will say, I am working on an outline for a sequel...if you guys would like to see one. I have to see how the outlining part goes. Any thoughts and suggestions are more than welcome so please, send them my way! If you don't want to on your review, by all means PM me!

I do want to say, once more, a huge heartfelt thanks, complete with hugs, to all my reviewers and my readers! You all have been so very special to me during this process. I would like to think I've made some friends as I have totally enjoyed my conversations with many of you through PM's and review replies. You all have been such a huge encouragement to me. Thank you!

And, here is the playlist that I promised to include at the end:

Animal I Have Become by Three Days Grace

All Around Me by Flyleaf

Stand in the Rain by Superchick

Won't Go Home Without You by Maroon 5

She Will be Loved by Maroon 5

Same Mistake by James Blunt

Ballad of Micheal Valentine by the Killers

Mr. Brightside by the Killers

My Confession by Josh Groban

Now or Never by Josh Groban

Love Song for a Vampire by Annie Lennox

My December by Josh Groban (and Linkin Park)

Leave Out All the Rest by Linkin Park

Stop and Stare by One Republic

Signal Fire by Snow Patrol

So I Thought by Flyleaf

Never Alone by Barlow Girls

Once again, a huge thank you to everyone!


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